


I Will Become The Sky

by FujurPreux



Category: Iron Man Noir, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Cuddles, Getting Together, Graphic depiction of animal cruelty, Hand Jobs, Knife Wounds, M/M, Noir Tony Stark, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-07 15:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujurPreux/pseuds/FujurPreux
Summary: Famous adventurer Tony Stark is once again looking for an important and ancient artifact when he runs into Steve Rogers, a jockey from Brooklyn. After helping Steve to defend his horse, Tony recruits him to be his eyes in the racing track. That, of course, it's mostly a pretext to meet him again, even if whatever happens with said artifact will impact the fate of the Earth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Sunday**

Few living people knew better than Tony Stark that magical artifacts were the biggest pain in the ass. They were either too cryptic or so specific that they went all the way back to crypticness. One of those blasted things, for example, was the cause behind his feet getting covered with mud all the way to his ankles right in the middle of New York City. Or at least with what he hoped was mud. Hard to say and he didn't want to make sure. Enough disappointment he suffered when he figured out his objective was in a setting as mundane as this horse racing track in Brooklyn.

On the other hand, after being exposed for so long to exotic location after exotic location, _Marvels_ ' readers might find this a welcome change of pace. Besides, Pepper did wonders with any material Tony gave her. No matter what, she remained unfazed, and she would enjoy the challenge to make this interesting. She would describe the skillful way he sneaked among the stables, back pressed against the walls, so silent he didn't wake up any horse, partially thanks to the way his boots sank in the soft mud. Tony would insist on making it mud even if he wasn't. He'd have a strong word or two with the chief editor if he had to. It wouldn't be the first time he concealed facts from the audience. Some of Tony's tastes and habits weren't palatable for the general public, but on the other hand, they were no one's business.

Back to the matter at hand, even he surprised himself when he reflected on all the things he was willing to do to save the planet from aliens. On a deadline, on top of everything. The man—or the being who had presented himself as a man—promised to return in a fortnight, and it had been three days since then.

"If there is anyone capable to find this relic by then," he had said, "those are you and your team, Tony Stark."

Yes. No pressure.

Yet, it was true that his team had accomplished incredible things in their time together, and he had a hard time thinking of anyone else who would be qualified to handle this kind of task. They'd be able to do it. They had gotten this far already. The relic would find its way back home with enough time to spare.

Of course, this would be the cue for things to start getting interesting.

Light came from the windows of the next stable he planned to check. There was noise in there too. The bad kind of noise.

Damn it. He was banking on that precise one to be empty. Those were the winners of the day; they should be in some bar out there celebrating like normal people. Not here, wallowing in horse scent.

Anyway, he decided to take a peek and assess the situation. Maybe the people inside were roughhousing in good fun and he would be able to find an opening and sneak in if they were drunk enough. As he got close enough, however, he realized that he wouldn't be that lucky tonight. Regardless if it had started as a party, what was going on inside had become a brawl.

To make things worse, the first phrase he could make sense of was an angry yell of, "Leave him alone!"

Tony looked through the window.

Three big thugs were facing the jockey who had won the big race earlier that day. Rogers, was his name. Despite not being a fan of the sport, Tony had been impressed by his determination and resolve, which he continued to show in that very moment. Despite the bruises, the little guy remained on his feet. He had even landed a few hits and kicks—and bites—on the thugs. Whatever the cause for the fight, Tony had to admire those guts.

Three against one in a fistfight was already unfair, but then one of the thugs had to flash a knife.

Tony took that as his cue.

At the same time he opened the door and walked inside the stable, he realized the knife wasn't meant to gut Rogers. It was meant for the horse.

Two of the thugs had grabbed the jockey by the arms while the remaining one advanced toward the animal. But he wouldn’t have it easy, and not only because the creature had turned around and kicked the doors of the stall with the same hellish fury Rogers had fought with.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Tony exclaimed.

His question distracted the ruffians enough for Rogers to escape their grip, tackle the one with the knife and bite his arm. He was kicked away for his efforts, though, as the big bully hurried to stand up. But Rogers had accomplished his objective: the knife had flown far from the guy's reach.

Rogers, with great effort and holding his stomach with one hand, stood up once again, placing himself between everyone and the horse.

"Leave! Now!" he panted.

Dramatic as it sounded, it seemed like only death would keep him down. Tony took a mental note of telling Pepper to quote his exact words on this one.

Tony himself added to the drama walking toward them and cracking his knuckles. "You'd better follow that advice, folks. While you can."

The thugs look at each other. One tiny guy had given them enough trouble, and the newcomer was tall and fresh. So they grunted and left. They didn't bolt only to save face.

"Well, that was something," Tony said as he relaxed.

Instead of paying attention to him, Rogers went to check on the horse.

"It's alright. They're gone. It's alright," he said in a valiant attempt of a soothing voice. In reality, Rogers was panting and shaking too much for that.

The horse's head showed over the lower door of the stall and it let itself be examined and hugged. However, Tony got the impression that the animal meant more to comfort the young man than being comforted itself.

The scene was sort of endearing, even with the blood all over Rogers' face and shirt. Or maybe it was endearing because of it. In any case, Rogers would be hurting in the morning.

Resigning himself to his bleeding heart, Tony looked around for anything he could use to help. He found a first-aid kit in the back.

"Sit down, kid. Let's have you cleaned up," he said upon his return, startling Rogers.

"You—You're still here." The words stumbled out of Rogers' mouth in a tense voice, and he didn't bother hiding a murder-like glare. Perhaps the aftereffect of having been in such a fight.

In any case, Tony refused to feel intimidated.

"Yes, and you're welcome," he continued. "Now get over here."

Rogers continued glaring. "I can do it myself. Wouldn't be the first time."

Tony snorted. "With that attitude? Hard to believe. Now, would you please let me finish my one good deed of the day? It's getting late."

Rogers would have carried on with the insults if the horse hadn't pushed him towards Tony. Coincidence, instinct, or understanding, difficult to say and also not the point.

Rogers got the hint and walked toward Tony. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the jockey moved stiffly. He made an effort to look dignified, but the overall effect was that of a grumpy wet cat.

Thank everything for the darkness that gave Tony the opportunity to control his smile. Otherwise, he knew he would have received a handful of manure of the face. Everything in Rogers' demeanor told him so.

A moment later, the jockey was sitting down in front of him, waiting. Tony, proceeded to clean the jockey's wounds with the tenderness the situation deserved. That is, none. He knew first hand how much these things stung, so he could picture the young man wincing. Yet, he didn't hear any kind of complaint beyond a hiss from time to time.

"What did they want, anyway?" Tony asked, nonchalantly.

"They're tired of betting on the wrong horse. That's all."

"That's all? Looked kinda harsh for just that."

"That's how these people are. They're bullies," Rogers said as if that explained everything. In a way, it kind of did.

"You're reporting this to the police?"

"Need to talk with the owner first. Will you testify?"

"I—" No, it wouldn't help anyone to make public he had been here. "Not a good idea, kid."

Rogers sighed. "Whatever. Thank you, anyway," he added in a soft voice.

"Don't mention it."

After that, Tony realized his ministrations had become softer, and he hurried to finish the job. Both he and Rogers kept silent as he did, and not even the horse made another noise.

* * *

**Monday**

Steve opened his eyes and bolted up—and he immediately regretted it. He felt stiff and everything hurt. While the situation wasn't new for him, the circumstances were. He had woken up in the stable—the last place he remembered from the night before, at least—, lying on a pile of straw and covered with something soft and warm.

"Ever since you told me about that new job of yours," said Bucky, who was sitting down next to him, "I've been expecting this exact scenario. Except for the coat. The coat's new."

"Good morning to you too," Steve grumbled. Or tried to. The words felt like a thick paste in his mouth.

As Bucky shook his head, unimpressed, Steve looked down at what covered him. Yes, that was a coat. A damn fine one, even. It obviously belonged to the man who had helped him the night before and who had never told Steve his name. The thing lacked any labels with useful information, too.

_And, fuck it, it smells nice._

"So, how many did you beat up last night?" Bucky asked.

"Three. Big ones. And then, this one guy… he helped." He then told Bucky the whole story.

Bucky nodded along, all serious. But he was always serious whenever he heard Steve's adventures.

"Nice to see you're actually making new friends," Bucky said, both eyebrows raised once Steve was done.

"Yeah. I need more people in my life who aren't you."

Bucky took it as the joke it was meant to be and laughed, which in turn made Steve snicker.

Bucky stood up and offered him his hand. "Come on. Let's have some breakfast and then see if we can find out something about that benefactor of yours."

"Need to talk with Mr. Maddock first," Steve said.

"It can wait until after you've eaten.”

"No. We must report the incident to the police, and he needs to be present."

Bucky raised his hands. "All right. Do you think he'd be up by now? I'm hungry and I need to go to work."

Steve got up, folding the coat over his arm. He'd find its owner and would give it back, but later. There were other priorities to attend to. "If he's not, we'll go straight to have breakfast. Promise."

"I'll hold you to your word," Bucky replied.

Steve stood up and checked the horse for a final time before going outside. The animal was fine, and the stable hands were arriving. They were good people who did right by the animals, so Steve left feeling more at ease. Even if they did shoot inquisitive looks at his bruised face. Steve frowned back at them, which made them shrug and go back to mind their own businesses.

 

*

 

Maddock turned out to be unavailable. Unlike Steve, he had gone to celebrate his victory, and had returned home drunk only a couple hours ago. To make matters worse, the housekeeper was adamant about not waking him up, and even less to let them in to do it themselves.

"It's a waste of time," the housekeeper said, arms folded. "Yours and mine. One would be lucky to get him to say his name in the right order when he gets like that!"

"This is important!" Steve said.

"Son, all the president's men could come and dance on his head they wouldn't get a better result. Come back in a few hours. At two in the afternoon should be fine."

"But—"

"At two, I said," the woman continued. "I have a long day ahead of me, so if you excuse me…" With that, she closed the door on Steve's face.

Bucky passed an arm around Steve's shoulders before the latter could react by either growling or punching said door.

"Breakfast, Rogers. You promised. Then you can go to the police yourself and get the process started."

Steve sighed. "Fine. Let's go. But you're buying."

"Hey, I'm not the one who's won three races in a row."

"Neither did I. That was Babieca."

Bucky laughed. "Technicalities won't save you forever, Steve."

Steve grinned. "But what about today?"

Bucky made a face. "Today, you get a pass, I guess," he said in a way that implied he was making an enormous concession. "But that also means I get to choose the restaurant."

"Thank you," Steve replied, ready to follow his friend.

He planned to keep winning races. With the ten-percent cut he got for every first place, soon he would be treating Bucky to all kinds of meals. Right now, though, he had other expenses to catch up to. Namely, getting a stack of good paper and those color pencils that had caught his eye two months earlier. That had been the main reason he took this job; it was riskier than drawing car advertisements, but it also paid way better if done right. The races in the past weeks had proved it.

They went to a small restaurant a couple of blocks away from Bucky's workplace. They had enough time to eat and Bucky would arrive on time. However, Steve discovered, that wasn't why Bucky had chosen that place. Neither was the food.

As soon as they sat down, a cute waitress ran to bring them the menu, smiling the way girls always smiled at Bucky. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve noticed an older woman smiling fondly and shaking her head at their general direction before disappearing into the kitchen. Steve wished he could do the same. But the only thing he could do now was to fall back to his usual routine of pretending he wasn't there while Bucky flirted his way into a discount.

While doing so, Steve's fingers found their way to the coat, still folded over his arms. The fabric was the best Steve had ever touched. Soft. Warm. Resistant. Even better than the ones belonging to the people his boss kept failing to convince to become his investors. A detail he was aware of because he had been in charge of taking their coats when they met—and then to give them back when they left, which they always did. Those were supposed to be very rich people. Now Steve wasn't so sure. If they were, they would have had something like this. But thinking of this kept raising more and more questions.

Who was the stranger? What did he want? If he had been the owner of a rival stable, he would have mentioned it. He would have bragged about defeating Babieca their next race. The man and Steve exchanged some amiable banter while they were talking. Why skip that topic? Well, because this wasn't it. He couldn't be a thief either. What thief would wear something like this? None Steve had ever encountered, that was for sure.

His train of thought was interrupted by the waitress placing a dish in front of him. A dish he didn't remember ordering but that nevertheless contained food he liked. Steve smiled at Bucky as a thanks and waited until the girl returned to work to start eating.

The food was good.

"Do you come here often?" Steve asked.

"Whenever I can," Bucky replied, shooting a smile at the waitress across the room. She covered her face with he hand to repress a giggle.

"Your date tonight?"

"Carla? Yup. Tomorrow's her free day." He drank some coffee before continuing. "Hey, she has a friend—"

Steve shook his head. It's not that he didn't want to have a date—a proper date, someday—, but he didn't want to jeopardize this one for his friend. They tended to end badly anyway, and he was glad to have a good excuse this time around. "I need to set this business straight first, or I'd get too distracted. Sorry."

Bucky shrugged, but he didn't look surprised. "Next time, then."

"Next time."

They ate in silence for another few minutes before Bucky stood up "Gotta go," he said. "I'll take care of the bill, but you can stay for as long as you want." He patted Steve's shoulder on his way out.

Steve smiled back and muttered a thanks as he watched Bucky go. Then, he turned his attention back to the rest of his breakfast, which was only half-way through.

Two forkfuls later, someone sat down in front of him. Thinking it was Bucky again, Steve had to tease him. "What? Forgot the tip?"

"I never forget to tip, Rogers," said the stranger from the night before. "It would be rude. Besides, I haven't ordered anything yet."

"You—" Steve began as he looked up. However, he got stuck there when he recognized the face in front of him. It had been impossible to see back then, but now, in a well-lit place, it was unmistakable. It appeared often on the newspapers and all the time in those magazines Steve liked to read. "Well, that explains the fancy coat," he said in the end, trying to sound coherent.

"Glad you noticed," Tony Stark replied. He seemed amused although not at all surprised. Then again, people had to recognize him often. "But, please, continue with your breakfast. I'll get myself some coffee and, once you're done, we can talk business."

Steve took the man's word and began to eat forcing himself to make it look as if nothing happened, as if being in front of one of the richest men in the country, who tripled as a famous adventurer and someone he admired, was an everyday thing. "Business?"

"As I said, after breakfast." Then, he raised his hand to call for service.

Interestingly enough, it wasn't Carla who showed up, but the lady Steve had seen going into the kitchen earlier. Regardless, Stark flirted in a low-key way with her as he ordered his coffee.

Steve seized the chance to study his features, something the grainy resolution of the photographs from the newspapers made difficult, and the current _Marvels'_ illustrator, impossible. Whoever that was, he preferred to make an emphasis on the scenery and not on the humans performing the feats and dodging all that danger. Yes, the locations the text described were incredible, beautiful beyond belief. But the illustrations were static. A terrible fit for that kind of adventure. Perhaps, being generous, that style would work better for a moment and a place like these: breakfast time at a modest restaurant in what—if Steve's deductions, backed by his readings, turned out to be correct—was the calm before the storm.

He took a deep breath. He had all those castles in the sky and this was probably something small and mundane. Like giving the man his coat back and nothing else. Besides, weren't the latest news that Stark had just returned from Asia last Saturday? No one could be having high adventures all the time, right?

"And yet…" Steve murmured.

"What was that?" Stark asked, sipping his coffee.

"Nothing," Steve replied. "What were you doing at the stables last night?"

Stark waved his hand. "That's business too."

Steve played with his fork. "You're leaving me with nothing to talk about, you know."

"Really? You know who I am and that's the only topic of conversation you can come up with?"

"You know your adventures better than I do, even if I have read them," _several times_ , Steve added in his mind and with a shrug. "And people must ask you about them all the time. You must be bored of that."

Stark laughed. "All right, all right. But if you want to talk so much, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Steve's eyes widened. "Myself?" It came out as a stutter and he hated himself for it. He scoffed and shrugged again as he ate a little more to help himself pretend that had been nothing. "There's nothing remarkable about me," he said in the end. "Born and raised in Brooklyn, employed as a jockey, won three races in a row so far with no plans to lose anytime soon." _Able to create better illustrations than the current Marvels guy._ "That's about it."

"Willing to take on three thugs twice your size to defend a horse," Stark added.

Steve snorted. "Anyone who knows me can tell you I'm always itching for a fight."

Stark shrugged and finished his coffee.

Meanwhile, Steve placed his cutlery on the now empty plate and pushed it forward. "Alright. I'm done with breakfast."

"Business time, then." Stark leaned forward, rested his chin on his hands and looked a Steve so intensely he had to frown in self-defense. When he spoke again, his voice was low. It had transformed into a whisper that left Steve covered with goosebumps. "I am looking for a certain artifact I have good reason to believe is in the racing track."

_I knew it_ , Steve thought, and then he said, "What does it look like?"

Stark produced a photograph from the inner pocket of his jacket. It showed the sculpture of a pegasus wearing battle armor. Steve took the photograph to take a better look. The sculpture was made of clay and it looked ancient. Yet, the level of detail was incredible. The coat of arms was easy to distinguish in the saddle, the reins and bridle were defined with clarity, and one could even see the individual hair and feathers on the mane and the wings, respectively. It was beautiful.

"Sorry. Haven't seen it. I would remember," Steve said, unable to tear his eyes from the picture. He would try to draw it later, once he got those new pencils he wanted.

"Was worth the try," Stark said. "However, would you mind keeping an eye out for it? You can get a hefty reward for a good clue, and even more for the actual object."

Steve nodded and gave the photo back. "Okay. I can do that. But," he began, although he already suspected the answer to his question, "wouldn't it be better to pass it around? You could get more eyes on the lookout that way."

Stark shook his head. "This is not something I want to make public."

"My lips are sealed, then."

Stark's eyebrows rose. "Thought the reward would take care of that."

"I'm a firm believer of giving fair chances to people."

"Sometimes, it's useful to know when the fair chances are just for you."

"I can live with that."

"Excellent." Stark took out his wallet and tossed enough money on the table to pay for his coffee plus a good tip, as he had said at the beginning. Then, he offered Steve a piece of paper with a phone number on it. "Call me if you find anything. I'll be around too, but just in case."

Steve took the paper. "Got it." He took yet another deep breath. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark."

Stark smiled and did a two-finger salute. "Likewise, Mr. Rogers." He got up and left.

Steve remained on his chair for another minute, feeling dizzy. "What did I just get into?" he asked himself. He had no idea.

He truly, truly had no idea.

He had also forgotten to give Stark his coat back.

* * *

Tony hurried back to the mansion. He wasn't eager to communicate the lack of significant progress on his end of things despite being out for twenty-four hours. But he needed to know how the others were doing.

"Welcome back, sir," Jarvis said as soon as he saw him crossing the threshold, and followed him to the library. "Where is your coat?"

"I lent it to someone who needed it," he explained with a shrug. "I'll pick it up later." Neither of those statements were a lie. Rogers had it folded on his lap during their conversation, but Tony had found no way to ask for it while remaining cool and mysterious before he left.

"Oh, no. He's giving away clothes," Rhodey said. He was standing next to the desk, holding one of the many old books that populated the desk. "That always spells problems."

"You would've done the same if you had been there," Tony said. "And I wasn't giving it away. I will get it back."

Rhodey shook his head and went back to read.

Those were strange books, even for Tony. When one saw them from the corner of the eye, their content seemed like nothing but elegantly traced squiggles. Gibberish for the untrained eye. But, when paid proper attention, it turned out they were in English. Or they turned themselves into English—which, by the way, didn't make them any less dense. They were supposed to help them on their search, but no one in Tony's team had figured out how.

They contained a fascinating mix of ancient mythology and advanced science. Tony would have loved to spend hours with his nose stuck in them and, at one point or another, to show them to people whose native language wasn't English to test a certain theory he had. It killed him not to be able to do it, and all because of that pesky detail regarding the fate of the Earth.

However, he had taken notes from the scientific part, already finding ways to implement a good deal of it into his armor. At some point during the process, he wondered if that was the real reason they got them. No way to know without asking, and he wouldn't be able to do that before the man returned. Meanwhile, he figured it wouldn't hurt to take advantage of them.

Along with the books and the photograph of the statue, the man had given them an artifact made of stone with four rows of gems. As soon as Tony held it, they began to glow, each row in a different but consistent pattern.

"It will lead you to the object of our interest," the man had said. "It was only recently moved there; this activity was what brought it into our attention."

The team decided to start with the books. As they went through them, they realized several pages were missing from one of them. They had been cleanly ripped off.

"That's where the answer's gonna be, mark my words," Tony had said.

Based on their past experiences, the rest of his team could only agree. But there was only so much they could do about that at the moment, so they moved on for the time being.

Hours later, Tony figured out the pattern of the glowing gems. Each row referred to a sets of coordinates, which in turn pointing to a corner of a certain racing track in Brooklyn, New York. 'Recently moved there,' meant that, if it had been buried, it shouldn't be that difficult to discover the exact place. Not for an experienced treasure hunter such as Tony. Which made all the most annoying that he hadn't been able to find it, and that was the reason why he had dragged Rogers into this. Well, one of the reasons.

"Breakfast should ready," Jarvis announced. "I'll go get it."

"Already had some," Tony replied. "I'm more interested in how we're doing here."

But he was ignored. As usual.

"You did remember this time that coffee is not breakfast, right?" Rhodey said.

Tony waved his hand. "I stopped by a restaurant on my way here. I can even describe it to you and give you the address if it eases your mind."

Rhodey sighed in an exaggerated fashion as he pretended he was not fighting a smile. "Any advances on your end?" he asked, bringing forward the topic Tony had been procrastinating upon.

"Not many. I got an informant, though. Someone who won't raise any suspicions coming and going through the stables. Nice kid, lots of guts."

"Lots of discretion too?" asked Pepper, who was walking into the room with another old tome in her hands, one she had brought from a box in the basement. She presented the idea in a matter of fact tone, but she was frowning.

"I know you've improved as a judge of character, but…" Rhodey chimed in, trailing off at the end as a courtesy. There was no point in reminding Tony of his past mistakes when he was the one who remembered them the clearest.

Tony sighed and folded his arms. "I'm pretty sure of this one. He's shown enough integrity for a lifetime in a few hours. Besides, he knows too little to compromise anyone. And!" he added raising his finger. "He's a fan!"

Rhodey snorted. "Of course he is."

"I'm allowed to have fans. _We_ are allowed to have fans. But let's go back to the matter at hand." He looked at both Rhodey and Pepper. "Any advance on _your_ ends?"

They both shook their heads.

Tony sighed. "Keep working. We'll get there."

Jarvis came back pushing a cart with a proper breakfast on it. "Here we are," he said, stopping in front of a comfortable chair.

Tony turned around looking for an excuse. "We're working with a tight deadline," at the same time he grabbed one of the books was the only thing he could come up on the spot. However, the faces of everyone else in the room made clear that it would be in his best interest and far easier to just shut up and eat.

With a world worth of reluctance and as dramatically as he could, Tony sat down in front of the cart. Pepper and Rhodey stared at them and refused to return to their tasks before he took the first bite. So he did.

He would never admit I was delicious.

What would next for their joint front, then? Make him take a nap? The lengths people went to get what they wanted, really.

Tony cleaned his mouth with a napkin and turned to Jarvis. There was one more update he needed. "Are the upgrades done?"

"Almost," replied the man. "Are we sure you'll need the armor for this one?"

"No. But it doesn't hurt to be ready for anything, does it?"

"No, it doesn't."

"Now stop staring. I'll eat everything in the plate. Promise," he added.

Jarvis raised an eyebrow but said nothing else before turning around to return to the workshop. He didn't need to. Rhodey and Pepper, the traitors, would keep an eye on Tony and report back to him if he broke that promise.

Thus, Tony kept eating and drinking his coffee. In a mere technical way, Jarvis' was much better than the one he had had in the restaurant, but it had nothing on the company.

Rogers had earned his respect the moment he took on those thugs to protect a defenseless creature. Three of them and all twice his size. The jockey knew how to take a hit or two without losing the drive to carry on, a quality harder to find than most people could imagine.

The decision to rope him into this mess happened in the exact moment Tony was patching him up. But he still had to make sure that Rogers could be trusted. That was why he waited until he could see him in the daylight. He had followed the jockey from the race track to the restaurant and had witnessed his failed attempt at waking up his boss. It had been hard not to laugh loud enough to be heard across the street.

In any case, when he had the chance to talk with him face to face, Rogers did more than not disappoint. Yes, it was true that Tony didn't always make the best choices when a pretty face was involved, but not all pretty faces were paired with such clear and honest eyes. Besides, he bet it would be prettier once it stopped being swollen, and he wanted to be there when that happened.

In short, Tony liked what he saw, and he was glad to have an excuse to see the jockey again a few more times. Right now, though, he had work to do, and he got to that as soon as he finished his meal to everyone's satisfaction.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Steve realized he wouldn't stop being dizzy, he decided to leave the restaurant and go back to the stables. Maybe some fresh air would help clear his head. Two in the afternoon was still a few hours away. He could use that time to keep training. Steve wouldn't let anyone to think his victories had all been thanks to beginner's luck—least of all himself. The key was hard work, as it had always been.

On his way to the track, he stopped by the art supply store. He got his wish: those color pencils and his paper. It felt weird to have that kind of money, to buy this expensive stuff knowing his until then limited budget wasn't in danger. But it felt good too. Besides, he had earned this money, to spend it in whatever he wanted. Thus, with his conscience clear, he resumed his way to work.

At the entrance, Steve winced when he saw he'd have to go past one Merrill Chase, an old gardener with a penchant to gossip. In any other circumstances, he wouldn't have minded, but right then there was no hiding his face, which sported those bruises from last night that hadn't faded way yet. However, going through the back door, the one intended for suppliers would be worse. Mrs. Davis, the head cook, had a soft spot for him, and she would make an even bigger fuss. The last resource would be to jump over the wall, but he didn't have a ladder.

Therefore, with no other choice, Steve straightened up, raised his chin, and strode though the yard. He didn't even flinch when the inevitable, "What happened to your face?" came up.

"Just a fight. But I'm okay," Steve replied. He tried not to slow down, but it was difficult. His mother had raised him better than that. Curse his manners.

"Just a fight?" Two seconds later, the man was too close for comfort. "You don't smell like alcohol."

Miffed, Steve moved one step backwards. "I haven't drunk anything in a while," he replied. "That's not how I wanted to celebrate."

"We always knew you were weird. Does it happen often?"

"Skipping a party?"

"Getting into a fight."

Steve shrugged one shoulder. "I need to go."

"They do, then. Listen, son," the man looked around. Satisfied at not finding anyone else around them, he got even closer and lowered his voice. "I have a friend who can teach you to fight. In a real way, not that street non-sense. I'll be happy to introduce you to him." He made a significant pause and smiled. "For a small fee, of course."

Steve rolled his eyes and began to walk again. "I have no money."

"You just won a race!"

Steve walked faster. "And I spent it all already."

"Did you have it stolen? Was that that you got beaten up?"

And faster. "See you later, Mr. Chase."

"That does it! I'll bring him tomorrow. You can pay me later!"

"No need," Steve called back, half way through the yard.

"Tomorrow morning! Be ready!"

Steve pretended he didn't hear that. He had too many things in his mind to bother with this. He would deal with Mr. Chase's idea the next morning, and that if the man made good on his word. Meanwhile, he had work to do. He placed the parcel with the pencils and the paper on a shelf, grabbed the brush and went inside the stall. Babieca neighed and nuzzled him before letting him start brushing him.

"You like it, don't you?" Steve asked, smiling.

Babieca turned his head to nuzzle him again, which Steve took as a yes.

"I like it too," Steve continued. It stopped him from thinking too much, something he often needed. When he finished, he went for the saddle. "Time to go out."

The horse let him do. It had taken Steve time to learn how to do this, even if Babieca had always stood still for him. Now, though, he was able to get the horse ready no time and led him outside the stable.

"We can do some exercise while we look for a little something. If we're successful, we could get a mention in _Marvels_." Steve tried to make it sound like a joke, but deep down he hoped for that. He would be happier with a mention even more than with the money Stark promised. It wouldn't matter if he was but a footnote in the grander scheme of Tony Stark's adventures. For that, he promised himself to work as hard as he possible. He would look all around the place looking for any kind of clues.

*

Nothing resembling a clue appeared in the three laps Steve and Babieca made. It was a bummer, but Steve wouldn't be disheartened. The search was just starting.

When he returned to the stable, ready to go back to Maddock's house, he found the man waiting for him. His face looked puffy, but awake and gesticulating with his cane.

"Gertrude told me you were looking for me— What happened to your face."

Steve sighed inwardly, but this time the answer was relevant to the business at hand. He dismounted and proceeded to explain what had happened the night before.

Maddock's face grew red as he listened, his cane swinging back and forth and in wide circles. "How—! How dare they!"

See? That's why Steve liked him.

"I'll take care of things," Maddock continued as he turned to the door and began to stomp his way out. "Stay here. I'll bring the police and we'll fix things." he added. "I know people. They'll listen to me."

Steve saw the man leave, muttering all the way. He had been told to stay, so he would. It wasn't like he had any big plans for the rest of the afternoon, but wait until most people left so he could snoop around without anyone asking questions. Besides, Babieca was better company than most, and he could take the opportunity to try his new color pencils; his fingers had been itching since he bought them.

He made sure the horse was settled with food and water before sitting down with his material. When he opened the box, he stared at the pencils. His mother always got for him the best she could afford. Steve appreciated that, he really did. But none of those had anything on these. Even holding them felt different.

Fine. Time to try them.

He grabbed a sheet of paper and began drawing the sculpture from the photograph Stark had shown him. Better now while it was still fresh in his mind. While he could still remember all those details.

Steve smiled as he worked, so focused he lost track of time. By the time he looked up, shaking the tiredness out of his hand, Maddock was back, along with police officer. Steve, then, spent the next hour talking with them and giving his statement. It made him feel at ease to know he was following the proper procedure, doing the right thing.

When Maddock and the police officer left, it was dusk.

"Time to go after those clues again, whatever they may be," Steve told the horse. "Want to go?"

Babieca shook his head in a way that looked like he said no.

Steve laughed. He didn't believe the animal could give him an actual answer to his question, but it was fun to pretend. "Fine, fine. I'll be right back."

He placed drawing, the paper and the pencils back on the shelf, next to Stark's coat. That done, he patted the horse's nose and left.

* * *

Rhodey and Pepper did make Tony take a nap. For a couple of hours and he did feel better afterward, but he refused to say it out loud. Those two-timers didn't deserve anything better.

Anyway, it was getting late. If he wanted to make any progress that day, he had to go back to the tracks. He parked the car two blocks away and walked the rest of the way, making sure not to be noticed. Once he reached the same spot he used the same time, he went over the wall. It was easy. He had a couple of extensive ladders well hidden behind a row of bushes on this and the other side. If that failed, the wall had holes he could use as handles to prop himself up, and Tony Stark had climbed up worse places under worse conditions.

Tony's feet hit the soft mud—it would forever be mud in his head—and he sneaked through the bushes, taking advantage of the darkness. It wasn't long before he saw Steve Rogers crouching next to a barn, looking at something on the ground. He was so focused that Tony decided it would be a shame not to disturb him.

Thus, Tony approached in silence, once again grateful for the nose-absorbent… _mud_ under his feet. Then, he crouched down next to Steve, his eyes fixed on the young man's profile. The bruises remained where he remembered them, but they weren't enough to mask Steve's delicate features. Even less those blue eyes Tony hadn't been able to stop thinking about. The same ones he would enjoy more if they were looking at him instead of at whatever was in front of him.

Tony cleared his throat.

And then an elbow hit his stomach, making him fall down on his ass, gasping for air.

"Ah! It's you!" Steve said, hurrying to offer him a hand to get up. "I'm— I didn't now!"

"I—" he breathed. He didn't accepted the help, though. Instead, he let himself fall down further. It had hurt, but Tony had had worse from people who wanted to kill him. "I shouldn't have done that."

Steve ended up sitting down on the grass next to him. He looked so embarrassed. It was adorable.

Tony went for one of his most charming smiles, the one that was almost a smirk. "It's fine," he said. "You itching for a fight wasn't a joke, huh. Regardless, it's nice to see you."

Steve smiled back shyly and then looked away, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah. Same."

"So, did you find anything yet?"

"I thought I did. But it was just a rock."

"I'd like to see it anyway."

Steve moved to point at the spot he was looking at before. "There. It seemed like part of the hoof, but it's nothing."

Tony followed him and grabbed the rock to examine it. "Yes, I can understand the mistake." He gave it to Steve. "Don't worry. This is how progress is made: by trial and error."

Steve nodded. "I guess."

Tony placed a hand on Steve's shoulder. "It's not a guess. Believe me. Now, let's see what else we can find."

Steve nodded and stood up. "Where did you check last night?"

"Not in enough places. But I think we could go over from the start. I could use a guide."

"Fine. Follow me."

"Of course," Tony replied.

They began to walk, with Tony right next to the jockey. They looked behind all trees, bushes, and even some of the rocks. But even as he tried to spot good place to dig, Tony couldn't resist the urge to multitask.

"So, how long have you been working here?"

"About two months."

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah. It's a nice place, and I enjoy the challenge of the races."

"Speaking of, yesterday's was impressive."

"You saw it?"

"Of course." Tony had been there all day, after all. "I'm not an expert, but the people around me were. They praised your form and your command over the horse. However, I do know how to recognize courage and determination when they're in front of me."

Rogers grew red and Tony scored a mental point.

"Babieca is a good horse," he offered, shrugging a shoulder.

"A good horse with a good rider," Tony said, placing his hand on said shoulder.

Rogers tensed up, but didn't try to brush it away.

On the one hand, point number two. On the other, someone had to teach this kid to value himself more.

"How much trouble would we get in if we start looking inside the other buildings?" Tony asked after taking his time to remove his hand..

Rogers chuckled. "Right now? Lots. But we should be fine after ten."

"Oh, excellent. It should give us time to go grab some dinner."

"Yes. That's fine. So. Um. We meet here at ten?"

"I was inviting you to come with me."

Rogers' face became that of a lost puppy pouting, thus continuing to be adorable. "Oh! Yes. That's nice. Thank you."

Tony smiled and patted Rogers' back. "Let's go, then. Can we go out the main door, though? I don't feel like climbing the wall again."

Rogers chuckled again. "Why not. We can say you're an investor if anyone asks."

Tony's hand went back to Rogers' shoulder. "I would definitely want to invest on you."

Rogers frowned at that, making difficult to make sure if he had understood that as the compliment it was meant to be. But once again he endured Tony's hand on him. Talking about mixed signals.

That night promised to be interesting.

* * *

They left the racing track without any problem. The guard at the entrance didn't acknowledge them beyond a simple nod. Relieved, Steve nodded back and led Mr. Stark outside. He had already wasted enough of the man's time, as he had been unable to find any kind of clue that led to the sculpture. It was true that he hadn't checked in any of the other stables nor in the administrative area. This came with their own can of worms, though. They could do it later, after dinner, but Steve wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Okay, what is it?" Stark asked. He was the one now leading Steve to his car.

"Excuse me?" Steve asked back, confused.

"First, you relax as we go out, then you tense up again and we haven't walked a yard. What's going on, Rogers?"

"It's Steve," he replied, fast to avoid regretting it before he could even say it. "I was thinking about what would happen if we find the sculpture in someone else's possession and not buried somewhere, Mr. Stark. Will you buy it?"

"If you're Steve, then I'm Tony. And yes, if I have to, I'll buy it."

Something in his tone of voice told Steve that he would also consider taking it without permission, if he had to.

Steve had read all the _Marvels_ books he could get his hands on, front to back, and some even more than once; he knew the lengths Stark— _Tony_ was willing to go to get whatever he wanted, and to reach wherever he wished to go. He was a strong-willed, driven man beyond anyone Steve had ever met, which was some of the reasons why he admired him. However…

However, the more Steve thought about it, the more he frowned. He knew that sometimes, the ones in possession of the artifact of the day in _Marvels_ were terrible people who had stolen it first or needed the thing for some evil scheme, thus forcing Tony's hand on the matter. To read about Tony's heists was exciting and it always sounded like the only option available in the stories. But now faced with the actual possibility, Steve wasn't so sure.

The regulars in the racing track were not terrible. He had found them to be friendly enough, or at least not willing to go out of their way to bother him. He wouldn't want to take anything from them by force or deceit, and he was well aware that the stories he read were glorified accounts of what had happened in rality. He wasn't as naive as to believe that everything had been exactly as told; the publishing house had to make a profit, after all.

"I won't," Tony said.

"What?"

"Steal it. I might repossess it if they got it through illegitimate means and they don't want to cooperate, but I would never steal it. It's an ugly word for an ugly action."

Well, if 'steal' was an ugly word, then 'repossess' sounded shady.

"All right, how scared should I be?" Tony asked. He had stopped next to a black, unassuming car and was opening the passenger door so Steve could get in.

The jockey shook his head. "It's fine. We'll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess. Thank you," he added as he got in.

Tony sighed. "Yeah, I guess." He closed the door and went to the driver's seat.

Steve watched as the other man started the car and made it start moving. He didn't have many opportunities to ride one of those things and he found the process fascinating. Tony's hands held firm on the steering wheel and he looked so secure while in command of the machine. He wondered, first, if he'd look the same when he used that armor of his and, second, how was that Marvels couldn't find a good illustrator. None of the drawings Steve had seen made Tony justice. None of them captured his obvious strength as they should have.

"Maybe he's someone's nephew…" he murmured.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Steve blurted out. "I was just thinking. I can count the times I've ridden a car with my fingers," he added. Nothing like a change of subject to avoid an unwanted topic.

Tony chuckled. "Oh? I've lost count."

Steve smiled. "The advantages of being rich."

"It's less exciting and glamorous than you think. The social commitments are endless and boring."

"Is that Tony Stark yearning for a simple life?"

"Why do you think I spend most of the year in far away from civilization as possible, surrounded by mosquitoes?"

"Because it's fun?"

Tony laughed. "Can't deny that. But I'm mostly escaping from the Sacred Society of the Ladies Who Lunch."

Steve snorted. "Okay, that's new."

"Says the one who doesn't have to suffer them and their judgments," Tony replied. He slowed down to park a few blocks away from a restaurant Steve had seen several times before but that he had never been in.

Steve hopped down as soon as the car stopped and hurried to help Tony by opening the door on his side. Least he could do to repay his previous kindness. "Molly's?" he asked. "Interesting."

"I passed through here while on my way to the racing track, and I thought it would be interesting to try it out. Do you like it?"

"Never been here before"

Tony's face lightened up. "Wonderful! Something we can explore together." He offered his arm to Steve. "Shall we?"

Steve felt his face growing red as he reached out for that arm. He didn't give himself time to grow hesitant; he hated when that happened, and always preferred to seize the chance whenever it presented itself than to mourn the lost opportunity. To leap head first into anything, his mother had called it. But most of the times it yielded good results. Why change the method? Thus, he grabbed that arm.

Satisfied, Tony began walking toward the restaurant with Steve having no trouble keeping up his pace.

They never made it there.

The screams came from the alley they were passing by. Steve and Tony looked at each other for the fraction of a second before realizing the other thought the same: they both had to find out what was going on and help however possible.

As one, they turned and ran toward the alley and, for the first time ever, Steve didn't feel alone while leaping head first into that unknown danger.

The yelling and the grunting became clearer as they approached. The former came from a young woman in a nice dress Steve recognized as Carla, the waitress Bucky was supposed to be on a date in. The grunts came from two men who held down a third so a fourth could beat him without problem. And that third man was, as Steve had feared, Bucky.

Steve tensed up and ran faster. He tackled the attacker with a roar, taking him by surprise—and taking him to the ground. The stunned silence this caused didn't last much. Steve anticipated it, though. He jumped back up before the thug could kick him away, and got ready for the next round, back against the wall to avoid surprises, and fists raised.

The other two men tossed Bucky, who struggled to remain on his feet until Tony caught him and helped to settle against a lamp. That done, Tony got into a fighting stance himself in front of the one holding the girl. But Steve didn't have more time to find out what happened. He had his own problems to deal with, now that his thug had stood up and charged against him, screaming and looking for pay back.

Steve dodged at the last moment, moving to the side so the man's fist crashed against the wall. Judging by the speed at which he was going and the long string of profanities, he broke his hand. Nevertheless, he still tried to swing the other one in Steve's direction, but his buddies—one of them sporting a bloody nose—, grabbed him and dragged him out, saying that it wasn't worth it.

"Buck! Are you okay?" Steve exclaimed, hurrying now to kneel next to his friend.

"Been better," Bucky offered. Under that light, it was difficult to assess, but blood came out from his mouth and he seemed to have a swollen eye. But he was talking and even attempting that cocky smile of his Steve would never admit he tried to copy at times, which meant that yes, he had been better, but he also he could be a lot worse. "Where's Carla?"

"Probably calling the police as we speak," Tony offered. "I told her to go to the restaurant." Then, he addressed Bucky. "That whole thing seemed too personal for a mugging, don't you think?"

Bucky sighed. "Her ex-boyfriend and friends. Although he claimed she never broke up with him."

Tony grimaced. "Been there. My condolences."

Steve placed a hand on Tony's forearm to call his attention. He remembered his reaction the night before regarding the idea of talking with the authorities the night before. "We better get you out of here before the cops arrive or those guys come back with back up."

Tony nodded. "You two come with me. Your friend needs some patching up."

Steve turned to Bucky and faced a questioning look. However, a brief nod from the jockey dissipated Bucky's doubts, who now let Tony help him up and then go back to his car. He was lay down on the back seat while Steve went to sit in the front to give him space, even if he kept turning his head back to check on Bucky along the way.

"I'll live, Rogers. Promise," Bucky said the fourth time. Then he nodded at Tony's direction. "Who's your friend?"

"Right. This is Tony Stark. Tony, this is Bucky Barnes."

Bucky's eyes widened. " _The_ Tony Stark?"

"The one from _Marvels_ , yes," Tony replied.

Bucky looked from Steve's face to the back of Tony's head in shock for a moment before sighing and relaxing against the back of the seat. "I don't know why I'm surprised. This is you we're talking about."

Tony chuckled.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Nothing," Tony replied. "We'll be there soon."

And soon they arrived. Not to a hospital, but to Stark mansion.

*

Steve committed to memory every single detail of the mansion's style and decoration, much of which dated from the previous century. In that particular room, a well-lighted study in sober colors, only a handful of objects went further back in time, and that made Steve wonder where Tony's special collection could be hidden. All those artifacts he had collected over the years during his adventures had to be somewhere. Although perhaps they weren't that hidden; he and Bucky hadn't seen much of the place yet.

Yet. Just to think about that, about how he had gained access to the Stark mansion after knowing Tony for one day made his heart beat faster.

"Are we sure I'm not hallucinating?" Bucky asked, voicing Steve's thoughts, as Mr. Jarvis's took a moment to submerge the rag he was using into water again. Cleaner now, Bucky's face looked less dramatic, for which Steve was grateful.

"You're not," Steve replied. Because if Bucky was not hallucinating, then he himself wasn't either, and Steve wanted the last couple of days to be as real as the ground under his feet.

"And you haven't a fever, lad," Mr. Jarvis said. "Young Mr. Rogers," he added, continuing his ministrations to Bucky, not bothering to look at Steve, "would you mind checking on Mr. Stark? Down the stairs, all the way down the corridor, and then to the right. The kitchen is right there." Despite his polite tone and his wording, it was not a request.

Nevertheless, Steve felt compelled to answer as if it had been one. "Just Steve," he said. "Happy to help. I'll be right back, Buck."

Bucky raised a hand to both wave him goodbye and let him know he'd be fine, so Steve went down those stairs. He took his time, too. It had never being neither implied nor outright stated that he had to hurry, and he could take umbrage under the fact that what he had told to Bucky had been a mere figure of speech. This was an opportunity of a lifetime and he would take proper advantage of it.

A double staircase was the kind of thing whose existence was reserved for movies and magazines. Not even Mr. Maddock had one of these. But then again, Mr. Maddock's residence was a big house downtown while this was a proper mansion. The staircase was made of marble and it felt so smooth. Steve let his fingers slip on it as he went down, his mind working out the ways he could try to show it on paper. The shading he could use, the colors. Of course, there were plenty of things he wanted to draw inside the mansion, but the staircase seemed like a good-enough challenge to start with.

But all journeys get to an end. Steve wandered into the kitchen right on time to witness a column of fire elevating from the stove right in front of Tony.

"Wow! What's going on?" Steve asked, running right toward the other man, ready to take him away from there if he had to.

"It's nothing! I have it under control!" Tony replied, even if he didn't seem to be doing anything about it. He was just standing a couple of steps away from the stove, staring at it, eyes open and jaw dropped. Fortunately, though, the fire column didn't last more than two seconds.

That was as far as the silver lining went, though. Whatever was on those pans on the stove had now become a pile of carbonized lumps.

"Were you fighting some kind of fire demon?" Steve asked.

"I was trying to prepare pasta. But if anyone asks, we're going with your version," Tony replied and then sighed. "I have no idea how that happened. I'm still hungry though, so… care for some sandwiches, Steve?"

Steve shook his head. Tony deserved better than simple sandwiches after everything he had done for him and for Bucky. "If you have more pans and pots and food left on the pantry, I can put something together. Nothing fancy, though."

Tony raised his eyebrows. Despite the fire, they were still in place, which spoke wonders of his reflexes. "You sure?" he asked at the same time he gestured toward the rest of the cookware. "As long as it's edible, we're golden."

"I'm used to cook for myself—and I haven't died yet," he added, unable to resist himself.

Despite his joke, Steve hesitated for a second before taking one of the pots. They looked as expensive as everything Tony owned. He'd never be able to afford it if he dented them. But he had already agreed to cook, so he grabbed it and then checked the pantry and the fridge looking for ingredients. He found a varied selection. He got what he needed for the one dish he prepared the best and started to work.

Tony rewarded him with a snort. "Good to know. You live alone, then?"

Steve, in the middle of chopping some vegetables, nodded. "It's less terrible than it sounds." A lie. He hated feeling lonely, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

"If you say so," Tony answered, but he stopped pressing the subject. He had also sat down on a stool at a safe distance to avoid getting in the way. Or maybe to stop having to face another fire demon. It was hard to tell. "How's your friend doing?" he asked after a moment.

"Good, I think. He wasn't badly hurt. Thank you for helping him. Helping us. For bringing us here."

"Think nothing of it."

It was time for Steve to laugh now. "So you spend all your evenings stopping fights?"

"If they're unfair. Besides, Steve, you're part of the team now, and I take care of my own."

Steve felt his cheeks go red again. He hoped Tony hadn't noticed. If he had, though, perhaps he could blame the steam coming from the pot.

"It'll be ready soon," Steve said adding the last ingredients to the pot. He took a deep breath and went to join Tony. "We need to let it simmer for a bit."

"How long?"

"A bit. Smell will tell. You need to learn how to cook, you know," he teased.

"Why, though? There's always someone willing to do it for me," Tony teased back, pointing at Steve with his open palm. "Case in point."

Strange. Part of Steve told him that something like that coming from anyone else would have resulted on the other person's nose being punched. But somehow this coming from Tony right now was— _charming_. And funny. Enough for Steve to laugh, which in turn prompted Tony to do the same.

"Don't get used to it, though," Steve said.

"Not even if I say please?" Tony asked, batting his eyelashes.

Steve laughed again. "One meal at a time, Tony."

"Can't say I didn't try." Tony then started sniffing the air. "You were right! I can smell it now."

Steve got up to turn off the stove. "Get some dishes, please."

Tony jumped up and hurried to obey. _He should be really hungry_ , Steve though, amused.

A couple of minutes later, they were both sitting down on the table, eating.

"This may not be fancy, but it is better than what you led me to believe."

"Thanks," Steve replied, smiling and hoping once more he wasn't blushing. Nevertheless, he kept his eyes fixed on Tony's. "Next time we'll go to that restaurant you wanted. My treat. To make it up to you."

For a moment, it seemed like Tony was about to protest, but he stopped himself right on time. "As you wish," he said he said instead.

Steve smiled back and continued with his dinner all the way through, satisfied. Tony did the same on the other side of the table.

When they finished, Steve took the dishes to the sink. "We can go back to the track now," he offered.

"Yeah, we should," Tony replied. To his credit, he brought his own dishes with him. "Are you nervous?" he asked.

"I've never broken into anyone's place before," Steve replied, but then he turned to face Tony, holding his gaze to make clear he didn't plan to back down. "Then again, I've been trying plenty of new things in the past weeks, so…"

Tony smirked. "Alright. Shall we? The night is ours."

Except that it wasn't. As soon as they were on their way to the main door, the sky unleashed a heavy storm. For a moment, Steve thought Tony wouldn't have a problem braving it. He had gone through much worse and survived.

What the famous adventurer did, though, was to pass his arm around Steve's shoulders and say, "I think you better stay the night."

Steve didn't quite deflate, only sighed. Long. He would've gone with Tony had he chosen to brave the storm. However, being realistic, this weather wouldn't have made any favors to his lungs. To accept Tony's offer meant they wouldn't collapse in the worst moment possible later.

"Come on. I'll show you your room. You can use my old pajamas."

"Yes. Thank you," Steve said, avoiding Tony's eyes due feeling self-conscious all of the sudden. But he did follow the man back upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [sadisticsparkle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadisticsparkle/) for coming up with the Ladies Who Lunch. :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Tuesday**

Tony pranced down the stairs on his way to the kitchen, his mind going back to the enchanting evening of the night before. His biggest regret was not taking the chance to kiss Steve. But the magic had been there, and it had been strong. He had felt it in Steve's smile and blushes, in the way he looked at Tony. However, this also meant they could recreate it later. Tony was a master of seizing chance to create his own luck.

When he reached the lobby, he found Steve's friend pretending his clothes weren't ruined despite being covered in blood and torn all over. Impossible to pull it off, but the kid deserved an A for effort.

"Good morning," Tony said.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark!" He hurried to meet him at the bottom of the stairs. "Thank you again for your help. I apologize for not introducing myself yesterday. James Buchanan Barnes, a pleasure."

"Oh! That's why you go by Bucky," Tony said, shaking that hand.

Bucky smiled. "Yeah. That's it."

"Why are you wearing that?" Tony asked pointing at Bucky's clothes. "Jarvis didn't give you something else?"

"I haven't seen him today, sir. But I have enough time to go back home and change before going to work."

"Sure you want to go to work? You took a good beating last night."

Bucky grinned. "Been worse. Comes with the territory of being Steve's friend."

Tony snorted. "Well, I've known him for two days and I've already been in two brawls."

"Yeah, that's him. Always biting more than he can chew and at times even managing due sheer stubbornness. Did he tell you that he had never ridden a horse before he took this job?"

"Are you sure?" Tony frown. "I saw him on Sunday. Let me tell you that I took riding classes as a child and I've had to ride a few horses here and there since then, and I can't ride like that."

Bucky shrugged. "The mysteries of Steve Rogers. I'm not sure even he knows how he does it. My current theory is that the horse loves him and does all the work for him."

"He has a way to make himself endearing, that's for sure."

"Once you get past the rough and grouchy exterior," Bucky replied with fondness.

"Tony, why didn't you tell me we had visitors?" Pepper said. She was leaning on the handrail from the second floor.

"I was about to leave," Bucky blurted in response.

"Pepper, dear, come here and allow me to introduce you to Mr. Bucky Barnes. He's a friend of the jockey I told you about yesterday."

"A pleasure to meet you," she said as she got down, offering her hand for a handshake.

"The pleasure is mine," Bucky said. He took said hand and, after a brief moment of hesitation, probably wondering if he should kiss it instead, he settled for a shake.

Pepper refrained from a chuckle Tony knew was building up inside her, and smiled instead. She was such a professional. Which explained her next question. "So, what happened to you?"

"He can tell you the whole story on the way," Tony said. "That is, if you're kind enough to drive him home. He's in a bit of a hurry."

"Of course," Pepper replied before Bucky could finish saying it wouldn't be necessary.

They left, then, with Bucky after her, apologizing for the inconvenience and Pepper forgiving him as they walked.

After seeing Pepper and Bucky leave, Tony went back to the study, forgetting everything about his initial intention to grab some breakfast. Since the rain had prevented them from doing further legwork, he spent the whole night reading as much as possible from of those old books. He had found them as sterile for their search as the first time, and the missing pages continued to bother him. But now, Bucky's words made him remember something, and he hurried to double check the information. He should have realized it before, right when he was reading it, but his continued daydreaming about the armor improvements kept him distracted. Nevertheless, he had a good idea of where to find it. He got the book, passed some pages until he got to what he looked for.

"Here!" he muttered to himself. Just because there was no one else to hear it, it didn't mean he couldn't celebrate his victories, small as they were.

He had got it right. The object they were looking for would reveal itself to a good-hearted person of extraordinary courage and resolve. That is, a stubborn asshole with the tendency to charge headfirst whenever the situation asked for it—and even when it didn't. The perfect description of a certain Steve Rogers.

"Wow. It definitely pays to multitask," he murmured.

He closed the book and decided he should look for the aforementioned jockey, hoping that he hadn't left through the window while he wasn't looking. Then again, Rhodey and Jarvis were always on the lookout and they wouldn't let anything suspicious to pass by them. Sneaking away would absolutely look suspicious.

"Oh, you're here," Steve said from the door of the study, right on time to ease Tony's mind.

"Good morning, Steve," he replied, turning his head to look at him.

Unlike Bucky, Steve now wore clean clothes. Old clothes from when Tony was still growing up. They weren't a perfect fit, but it was better than using the ones that populated Tony's current closet. They were also in a better condition than they deserved but, for once, Tony was glad.

"Morning. Mr. Jarvis sent me to tell you that breakfast is ready," Steve continued.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "Go ahead. I'll meet you there."

"I was told not to leave without you."

"Of course," Tony said with a scoff. Sighing, he closed the book and joined Steve. "Let's go, then."

Steve smiled, looking proud. Proud of himself? Proud of Tony? Difficult to tell, so Tony settled on sighing again and following the young man back to the kitchen.

"So, it seems you got used to the mansion," Tony said.

Steve's smile became shyer and he turned his head to the side, a gesture that, Tony was beginning to learn, meant the jockey would share something personal. "I got lost twice on my way to the studio. But I've figured it out now."

Personal and embarrassing, huh.

"We should hand out maps at the entrance, yes," Tony said, making Steve laughed. He congratulated himself before carrying on. "You have to be at the track at any specific hour?"

"I like to be there early, but I don't have a fixed schedule. Mr. Maddock doesn't care what I do nor how I do it as long as I win races."

"Doesn't sound so bad." Tony let a beat pass and then he added, "Hey, I've been thinking. What if I do show up as an investor? Can you introduce me to this Mr. Maddock?"

"Yeah, I can. It's going to give him a heart attack, though."

"If that happens, I'll buy that horse and hire you so you don't lose a job you so enjoy so much."

"I would appreciate that."

Tony patted Steve's shoulder again right before they walked into the kitchen. "You'd better, Steve. You'd better."

* * *

Steve stared at the phone and his hand hovered over the receiver. Breakfast had been great, and he and Tony were now in the living room. Steve was supposed to call Maddock and tell him he had found an investor. But he had begun to have second thoughts.

Tony's plan sounded like a good idea at the moment but upon reflection, he realized he didn't want to raise Maddock's hopes for a mere pretense.

"What now?" Tony asked.

Steve turned around and faced Tony. "Maddock was struggling to find a jockey before I showed up," he said. "Babieca wasn't cooperating with anyone, to put it mildly, and even with the races I've won, he's behind on the medical bills and compensations for the other jockeys."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "What you're saying is that the horse doesn't like anyone else."

"Maybe. My point is that Maddock was about to throw the towel when I asked for an opportunity. I couldn't believe what they told me at first, because Babieca's was gentle with me from the start. But he didn't believe it either when he saw me riding him, so fair enough, I guess."

Tony scratched his beard. "Interesting."

"My point is that Maddock does need an investor." Despite Steve's track record, most investors that had shown any interest ran away as soon as they found out both Babieca's fussiness and Steve's medical history. Who was to say his body wouldn't betray him at some unexpected point? Who would ride the horse, then? Or what if it happened in the middle of a race? Or if Babieca decided that he didn't like Steve anymore? When one took into consideration the entire context, none of that seemed like a sound investment.

"All right. All right," Tony answered, raising his hands up in the air. "I'll give your boss real money."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's worth it, believe me."

"You must really want that sculpture," Steve said, turning around again and this time picking up the receiver.

"Yes, the sculpture. That's what I want," Tony mumbled.

Steve thought he detected some sarcasm there, but decided against asking. For now, anyway.

A few minutes later, he had arranged an appointment with Maddock at the stables an hour later. He hadn't mentioned Tony by name, but he did say that he had a surprise for the man, for effect. He thought it would work better. To be honest, Steve was in the dark regarding Maddock's stance on Tony or on _Marvels_ , but Stark meant money, something his employer would be more than willing to take once offered. This part of the operation—Steve had no other way to call it—had no room whatsoever to go wrong.

They left the Stark mansion five minutes later. Arriving to the stables with time to spare would give them the opportunity to prepare the setting, according to Tony. Steve had no idea what he had planned, but he decided not to ask. He'd find out when he found out. On their way to the car, his color pencils and his new paper came to his mind. It had rained before, after Steve started working there, and the roof had never leaked, but the storm last night had been strong. So what if they were ruined?

Steve got in the car unable to stop thinking about it. He began folding and unfolding the corner of his jacket as soon as he sat down. Well, not _his_ jacket, but the one they had lent him. It wasn't new, either. This kind of clothes had been out of fashion for what, one or two decades now? But he didn't mind. Those clothes were in good condition. And clean. Steve had suffered worse hand-me-downs. For a moment, he wished he could keep them, but he had taken enough advantage of his host's kindness already. He would give them back as soon as he had a moment to get back home and change. Along with Tony's coat—which was also back at the stable. The stable whose roof could have leaked the night before.

Fine, so now he had the pencils, the paper, and the coat to worry about. Neat.

Tony started the car. "You're scaring me again, Rogers," he said.

"What? Uh. Sorry." Steve went stiff and placed his hands on his tights in an attempt to keep them still.

They began to itch immediately.

"No, you're not doing this to me. Speak up."

"What?" Steve repeated.

"You heard me. Spit it."

Tony's commanding tone made clear that he wouldn't be satisfied with the first bullshit Steve came out with. A change of pace from most of Steve's interactions with the world. An insulting change of pace, said the anger that started to boil at the bottom of his stomach, fueled by the itching of his hands.

Steve's expression became stern—it wasn't a pout; he never pouted, thank you—and blurted it out. "I left your coat at the stable and I'm worried the roof may have leaked."

Tony's reflection on the window nodded and smiled. "See? That wasn't that difficult, was it?" Then, he added, in a more conciliatory and softer voice before Steve could decide whether his sudden need to punch him was stronger than his wish not to crash, "It's okay. I have others."

"Yeah, but…" If he lost that one, it would be Steve's fault alone because he had neglected to return it at the restaurant last morning, where he had the chance. Or in the evening, before they left the tracks.

"You have other stuff there?"

"Yes."

"What kind of stuff? If they're things belonging to other men I'm gonna be upset."

"What?" Steve said for the third time in the trip, although now jumping and flustered. "No—Why—Why would I—"

"Good. I'm not upset them. What do you have there, then?"

Steve groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Color pencils and paper I just bought."

"You're an artist?"

"I—I like to draw. I've had jobs as an illustrator before, but they weren't fulfilling."

"I can also picture you getting sacked after hitting a manager that disagreed with you about a matter of perspective."

"That only happened once," Steve said, as deadpan as possible.

Tony laughed then, making Steve crack up as well.

"It's true, though," said the later after taking a big breath. "And it wasn't a matter of perspective but of proportions." The company back then had wanted Steve to draw their product to make it look bigger than it actually was. When seen in retrospect, it had been so silly Steve felt ashamed to mention it. But it had been the last straw on a long string of humiliating revisions from that same middle-level manager.

"Never doubted it," Tony replied. He was grinning now as he drove.

Steve too felt more relaxed now that he had come up clean. At least until Tony uttered his next sentence.

"Have I seen any of your work?"

"I didn't do much, to be honest, and I don't think whatever they did like was published anywhere you'd care to watch."

"Try me."

"It was advertisement for economy cars."

"You're right. I don't pay attention to those. Rhodes might, though."

"I hope I didn't get him interested in the ones I was working for."

Tony snickered again. "That's a whole lot of resentment, Steve."

Steve shrugged again. He couldn't claim that as a lie.

"Fine. We're here," Tony announced, parking this time as close to the gate as possible. "This time we're here on official business, so we get to walk in through the main door."

"That would be nice, yes," Steve said, getting out and once more hurrying to open Tony's door.

"I could get used to this routine, you know."

"You're welcome. Now let's go."

"Sir, yes, sir."

They walked in, Tony sporting his most charming smile, back straight and walking in the smoothest of ways, as if instead of a potential business deal a hot date awaited for him in there. It was fascinating to watch. Of course, it was then that Tony realized he was being stared at. His smile became—somehow—much more mischievous and he winked at Steve. Steve felt his face grow warmer and he turned aside. Tony's snicker was followed by a grump from Steve. He wasn't used to get this kind of attention, specially not from someone like Tony, and he didn't know how to react.

To avoid making the situation worse, Steve tried to focus his attention elsewhere. For example, on the well-arranged bushes and neatly cut grass. At that moment, he also noticed that Mr. Chase, the gardener, wasn't around. Strange. The man had become part of the landscape every time Steve came in to work every morning. Yet, there were many possible explanations for this. Maybe the manager called him, or he went for supplies to the warehouse. _Or_ he could be waiting for him with that friend he mentioned when he offered those fighting classes.

_Dammit._

In any case, if they were there, it wouldn't be difficult to ask them to leave. He was taking their new investor to check on their facilities. Mr. Chase could be on the obnoxious side, but he would understand that.

Once he reached that conclusion, Steve managed to calm himself down, and spent the rest of the way trying to decide whether to show Tony the drawing he made of the sculpture or not. That is, if it hadn't been ruined.

Steve held his breath as soon as the stable was in sight, and he let it out only when he confirmed nothing inside had suffered any damage—and that there was no one there. Neither Mr. Chase nor his promised friend.

"Looks different in the daylight," Tony commented while Steve went to say good morning to Babieca. "And it's dry. You can breath now."

"Read my mind," Steve replied as he patted the horse's head. He got nuzzled back and then he climbed on the stool he used to reach the higher shelf, the one where he had put the coat, the pencils, and the paper.

It was empty.

"It's all gone!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Tony asked, joining him with quick strides.

"Everything! My things, your coat! All gone!"

"Maybe you put them somewhere else?"

"No! I'm sure I left them here!"

Tony began to look around. "A shame the horse can't tell us what happened."

Babieca chose that moment to neigh and paw the ground.

"Did he understand what I said?" Tony asked.

"What? No," Steve answered. "He's smart for a horse, but—" He stopped himself. Tony had teased him, nothing more. There was no point in answering further.

The animal neighed again and turned around in his stall. He seemed ready to strike the door with his hind legs.

"I think your horse just rolled his eyes at us," Tony said.

Tony was welcomed to think whatever he wanted. The big problem here would be Babieca kicking down the door. Enough that, for a moment, Steve forgot he was on top of a stool, and he took a step forward in an effort to stop the horse from his attempt at getting lose.

A few things happened then. First, Tony grabbed him by the waist and held him close before he fell down. As a result, their faces were too close to each other. So, so close. Steve couldn't resist gravity pulling him down until his lips met Tony's. Yes, this was a move he could blame on an accident.

What he didn't expect was to be kissed back.

Tony held him even closer and took control of the kiss, which was fine with Steve, given his limited experience on the matter. It was nice and gentle. Softer than Steve would have expected. He placed his hands on Tony's shoulders, surprised by how much he enjoyed the taste of Tony's lips and his smell and the way his hand pressed against the back of his head. He even forgot about the theft. And the horse.

It also surprised him that when the kiss ended, Tony kept holding him.

"That was nice," Tony said, smiling. "I wouldn't mind doing it again."

"Me—me neither," murmured Steve.

But just as Tony closed the distance between them for a second time, the main door to the stable opened with a thud. The gardener and another man with a hood that covered his entire face all the way to his chin, waltzed right in. But the most aggravating thing was that they were holding Steve's drawing of the pegasus sculpture and Tony's coat.

"What did I tell you," said the stranger. "My nose never lies."

Mr. Chase rolled his eyes. "He didn't show up at his usual time even with the generous offer I made him. I thought he wouldn't come in today."

Steve didn't notice when Tony put him down from the stool, but he did when Tony stood up in front of him. Upset about it—even if less than he wanted to be—, he took a step forward so he could stand next to him.

"Who are you?" Tony asked.

"I'm just the gardener," Mr. Chase replied. "I work here. My friend and I were wondering how you know about this." He lifted the drawing.

Babieca began to neigh again.

"That looks rather well done," Tony said. "Did you make it, Steve? What a wonderful imagination."

"Don't play dumb," the stranger said. "We're willing to pay a big amount of dulas—"

"Dollars," corrected the gardener.

"—dollars for any information you have. We'll leave you alone after the transaction."

"We know nothing," Tony said.

The man hissed. "I wasn't talking to you!"

"Too bad, because I'm the one answering."

Mr. Chase got between them, holding his hands up. "Whatever. Whatever." He tilted his head to face Steve. "Son, just tell us what we want. You know I have a soft spot for you. I'd never want to do you any harm, even less if you cooperate."

Steve was as confused as when all of this began, but he didn't appreciate those insinuations of violence. He frowned and folded his arms. "As Tony said, I don't know anything. I dreamt of that thing a couple of days ago."

Mr. Chase lifted a fist as if he wanted to stop the lizard man from doing… something. "Last chance, Steve. I'm risking my neck here for you."

Steve's mouth became thinner. "What I said is what it is."

Mr. Chase let out a sad sigh and lowered his hand.

At that very second, the strange man lowered his hood to reveal a lizard-like face with a long snout, covered with dark blue scales. But Steve didn't have time to admire it for long. The creature drew a long breath and spat something aimed at Steve's face.

A second later, Steve found himself on the ground. Tony had pushed him down and rolled with him away from their attacker, all while whatever the lizard man had launched hit the wall behind them, leaving a nasty hole.

"Let's get out of here," Tony said, getting up and dragging Steve behind him.

* * *

Tony certainly wanted to find out who were those people and why the Mystery Man didn't warn him about competitors when he gave him the task. To do that, though, they first had to get out of there alive. He'd get angry at Steve for making that drawing later. Yet, even from a distance, he he could tell that the jockey had talent. That was another thing to get mad about—and to look forward too—; Tony took as a personal challenge to find out out something Steve wasn't good at.

But first, this. Tony looked around, looking for an exit. The only door was blocked by those guys and the windows were closed. Besides, they didn't know what other weapons they had. Guns, lasers, poisoned thornes. It could be anything. They would have to proceed with caution, Tony thought, reaching out backwards with his arm to cover Steve again. He found an empty space.

Before Tony could react, he heard a roar and saw Steve picking up the stool to charge against the gardener and the lizard creature. He didn't manage to land a hit—they dodged him with ease—but he made them move enough to clear a path through the door. Tony took the opportunity to launch forward, picked up Steve and, with him over his shoulder, he ran toward the street, hoping the others wouldn't want to show that hideous, scaly face in public.

"You asshole," muttered Tony, proud despite himself.

"Put me down! We left Babieca with them!"

"They weren't interested in him, dammit. Just tell me how close they are!"

"They're not pursuing us," Steve replied.

Not in any visible way, Tony thought. He slowed down only when they were on the street, and he didn't put Steve down; he shoved the jockey into the car and locked the door before going around to take the wheel again.

"We have to go back to the mansion," Tony said as he slid into the car. "And then we'll talk."

"Alright."

Tony looked at Steve from the corner of his eye. He looked feisty—or more like _feistier_ than usual. "You're not even going to ask what that think was?"

"Do you know?"

"Well, not really."

"Then what's the point? What matters is that they're dangerous and are after the same sculpture. We need to focus on working out a strategy."

"You watch too many serials, Steve," Tony commented to avoid calling him 'annoyingly practical.'

"I have little else to do on Sunday mornings," Steve replied, a smug smile on his face.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Good. You're only being annoying now," he said, and proceeded to start the car, taking in Steve's puzzled expression with a certain joy.

"Wait," Steve exclaimed suddenly. "That's Mr. Maddock!" Steve said, pointing at a middle-aged man with a long beard. "We can't let him go in there alone!"

"Those guys must be gone by now."

"What if they're not? Besides, he expects to see us there." _And you promised to invest for real_ wasn't said. Nevertheless, Tony heard it with utmost clarity. But Steve wasn't done talking. "We should take him to a restaurant. Staying in a public place should give us time to think about our next step."

Tony muttered a long string of profanity, but Steve had a point. Those individuals seemed to care about maintaining their cover. Otherwise they would be throwing acid at his car. "Fine. Call him."

Steve nodded and lowered the window to call his boss. Tony got off the car with his business act ready to go.

Maddock reacted the way Tony had expected: he had been ecstatic when he accepted the invitation to have some lunch and discuss Mr. Stark's generous proposal.

"We did it, boy!" Maddock said, ruffling Steve's hair when he thought Tony wasn't watching. "We got an investor! I knew we had it in us!"

Tony half hoped Steve would grump about it, but he didn't. He was even smiling. Great. Now he was jealous on top of everything.

On the plus side, this meant that Maddock had to take the front seat, sending Steve to the back. Yet, Tony remained amiable, taking the chance to elaborate in loving detail how impressed he had been by Steve's performance, knowing the recipient of his praise would be listening. It gave Tony pleasure to see every visible inch of Steve's skin covered in a deep shade of red. But what made Tony the happiest was the way Steve kept caressing his lips with the tips of his fingers once or twice.

 _Yes_ , Tony thought, _we'll_ _be kissing again soon and_ _I'll_ _make up to_ _you for_ _that rude interruption_ _._

They arrived to the restaurant without further incidents. Tony chose a very fancy one to impress both of his guests, although for very different reasons. It worked, of course. As if he could have gotten any other results. The meal itself also went by with no surprises. Steve ate in silence although staring at every single detail in the room, just like he had done in most other places he had gone to. Tony wondered if he planned to draw this laer, which led to the question of whether Steve had made his own versions of the illustrations in _Marvels_. Those could use an improvement.

Maddock distracted him by asking a question. The man hadn't shut up since they were seated. Thankfully, it was all routine questions about the terms of their future partnership that Tony could answer while paying half a mind to them.

The other half of Tony's mind kept expecting an army of blue lizard-things to show up and start spitting acid at them. It worried him that they were fixated on Steve only because he had been stupid enough to draw the damn photograph. Worse yet, they tracked him by scent, so to take him to the mansion and lock him in the attic would not be enough. He was going to need the expertise of his entire team on this one more than he had thought at the beginning. He doubted even Rhodey knew much about them, but he didn't want to assume. This day had been full of surprises already.

However, it wouldn't be a proper Tony Stark adventure without some unexpected complications now and then, wouldn't it?

"Dessert?" Tony offered.

"No, thank you," Maddock said, grinning. He patted his belly as he stood up. "Gertrude's being giving me grief about having to fix my pants every week, so I'd better take my leave now." He offered his hand to Tony. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark. See you soon."

Tony stood up to shake that hand, smiling as well. "Likewise, Mr. Maddock."

Maddock then turned to Steve. "Shall we, Steve?"

"Actually, I'd like a word with Mr. Rogers before he leaves," Tony hurried to add.

"Oh. Very well. See you later, son."

"Yes, Mr. Maddock," Steve replied.

Soon, they were alone again—even if in the middle of a crowded restaurant—, and Tony ordered some cake and coffee for the two of them.

"I should be pissed at you, you know," Tony said as they waited.

"To be fair, I'm pissed at myself," Steve replied. He was pouting now. "I shouldn't have drawn the sculpture. I kind of knew that much. I just—"

"Just what? Did you like it that much? I can't say it's ugly, but I believe its true value doesn't come from its aesthetics."

Steve's pout intensified and he looked away. "I wanted to—" he cleared his throat and sighed and then lowered his voice. "I wanted to impress you."

Okay. Tony wasn't expecting that one. "You have impressed me," he replied, leaning forward, lowering his voice as well and making it huskier. "In more ways than one."

Flustered and overwhelmed, Steve looked back at Tony. "I—" he began, and got stuck.

The waiter was gracious enough to bring their desserts to the table right then, giving him some time to recover.

Thus, Tony kept going as soon as the waiter left. "I wish I could have seen it up close, but even from that distance, the likeness was unmistakable, Steve. You have talent."

"I have other pieces at home," Steve admitted as he began playing with the fork. "But those are made with material of less quality. It got me some time to save enough to get those pencils."

It was interesting to see Steve's pout go from angry to sad as he said that. Losing his material had really been a big hit for him.

"Let me see them," Tony said after taking a sip from his coffee. "If I like them, I'll be your patron. I'll get you a replacement set of pencils, canvas, or whatever other stuff you need. In exchange, you'd have to make a painting I want from time to time, though."

"Would you?" Steve asked, surprised.

"Of course. Unless you think you're not up to the task."

"I am! You'll see!" With that, he began eating his cake.

Tony grinned and drank his coffee. What a weird way of cheering up, being posed a challenge, but whatever worked, right? Steve looked much better on the happier side of things.

"But before that, we need to get rid of those guys, don't we?" Steve said between forkfuls.

Tony nodded. "It's a good place to start, yes."

"Have you ever faced anything like that before?"

"Nope."

"I think they're aliens."

"You're a science fiction fan too?"

"Only when there's adventure. I skip all the parts about the science. Otherwise I fall asleep." He said that with such an impressive deadpan demeanor Tony couldn't figure out whether it was a joke. In the end, he decided to believe it.

"Let the science to me, then. For the record, I agree that they coming from another planet is a possibility as good as any other." Tony rested his chin on his hands. "But no matter where they come from, we need a list of their weaknesses."

"Item number one: they're afraid of stools," replied Steve just as deadpan as before.

Tony had to cover his mouth so his groan wouldn't call unnecessary attention to their table.

Humor! Humor was the subject Steve Rogers didn't excel at. Good to know. Good to know.


	4. Chapter 4

"Well, that was something," Rhodey said when Tony finished to tell the story—kisses and flirting edited out. Those were between Steve and him and no one else.

They had moved to the mansion's study to discuss the situation with the rest of Tony's team. While Tony talked, Steve worked on the desk, sketching the lizard-man-thing that had attacked them.

"Ma'am," Steve said as he handed the piece of paper to Pepper, who was the one closest to him.

She opened her eyes wide when she saw it. "Wow. There's always something new and exciting with you, isn't there?" she said and passed it to Rhodey.

"This looks nothing like any kind of lizard I know," the latter said. "As a matter of fact, the way you drew it, it looks more like the head of a crocodile."

"But crocodiles don't spit acid, do they?" Steve asked.

"I must admit that I have neither encountered or read about one that does," Rhodey conceded.

"I'm telling you: it has to come from another planet," Steve said.

Rhodey snorted. "Let's not rush there. There are many species out there in this one unknown to man."

"That's still my theory. I'm willing to bet on it."

"Five bucks?"

"Done."

"If you're finished," Tony said, rolling his eyes but secretly approving of them finding something to bond about, "our first priority is still finding the sculpture. So no more beating around the bush. We're going in tonight and comb the entire place."

"When you say we, you mean all of us?" Jarvis asked.

"Well, not you. I'll need you to be outside with the armor ready just in case."

Tony enjoyed Steve's surprised expression at the mention of the armor. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of taking him to the workshop and show it to him right then, but he decided against it. It would make a better impression to see it in action at the right time and, with the way things were unfolding, it would be soon.

A few moments later, everyone was dismissed. Pepper and Rhodey went to the armory to choose and prepare the guns an ammo they would take with them. Jarvis left for the workshop with the promise of Tony joining him soon to keep working on the.

"What about me?" Steve asked once everyone else had left.

Tony kissed him then. It was a lingering kiss, in which he dared to touch Steve's lips with his tongue, stealing his breath. And his brain. And, with any luck, that itch to fight he always wore on his sleeve.

"Why don't you get to know the mansion?" he asked, taking the opportunity to make an even worse mess out of Steve by moving his hair out of his face. "You can go anywhere. I have no secrets but I do have a handful of artifacts I've collected during my trips that you might like to see firsthand."

Steve nodded. "Al—alright," he said after clearing his throat.

Tony grinned. His strategy had worked.

He began to leave, but before he went too far, Steve grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back down to kiss him again.

"Can I draw what I see around?" Steve asked against Tony's mouth.

"Yes, but I need to clear what you can take home."

"Got it," Steve replied. He moved backwards to get a hold of some of the paper Tony had lying around on the desk and the pencil he had been using. As he got up, he turned to look at Tony again as if he wanted to say something, but he turned his head to the side again.

"What now?"

"Are we—" He cleared his throat. "Are we going to talk about the kisses? Later, I mean."

Tony's brain went into panic mode. Talking always destroyed the good things sooner or later. "I'm not the doing-talks kind of guy, Steve," he said, avoiding the jockey's eyes. "Let's just enjoy this, okay."

Steve nodded again, disappointment obvious on his face. However, before Tony could do or say anything else, the jockey walked away from the room.

Tony sighed and pressed the bridge of his nose. He would worry about this later. Jarvis waited for him and, at this moment, all he wanted to do was something simple and straightforward, like adding previously unknown alien technology to his designs.

* * *

Steve walked down the fancy corridors without paying too much attention to them and their decoration. He should have stayed quiet. He had ruined whatever had been going on with Tony. Nothing, once he thought about it. Almost every number of _Marvels_ featured a different fling of Tony's. None of them a male, but they wouldn't publish that kind of thing, would they?In any case, Steve didn't want to think about how many there had been before—and how many there would be after him.

He should have stayed quiet. He should stop thinking about it. He should—should he enjoy it, like Tony said? Could he? Now that he knew that he had no chance of—of what? Did he even want to have a chance of anything? He had liked the kisses, but.

But.

"There you are," Rhodey asked, breaking his train of thought. "Come on. It's time to go."

"Is it?" A quick look through the window told him that, yes, he had lost track of time while he was lost in thought.

Rhodey continued. "They're waiting for us."

Steve nodded, trying to hide the disappointment he felt because Tony hadn't been the one to fetch him. However, if Rhodes noticed anything, he didn't comment on it. He just led Steve back downstairs to the entrance, where two vehicles waited, one of them a big truck and the other the car Tony had been using since Steve met him.

Jarvis was closing up the back of the truck while Ms. Potts waited in the driver's seat of the car. Tony was nowhere to be seen.

"Steve, you're coming with us," Ms. Potts called.

"Yes, ma'am." Steve hurried to climb to the backseat so Rhodes could go in the front. In his case, he didn't feel to talk to anyone, doubly so once Ms. Potts started the car with still no signs of Tony anywhere.

"He's in the truck," Ms. Potts said.

"Excuse me?" Steve asked.

"Tony," she said. "He's upset because he can't turn on his newest model."

"He'll spend the trip trying to make it work," Rhodes explained. "Don't worry. This happens often."

"I see," Steve replied, his eyes fixed on the truck.

So, Tony wasn't avoiding him, then. He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

*

Steve made the rest of the trip silent and nervous while Ms. Potts and Rhodey chatted in the front seat. Part of him wanted to bolt away and leave this be. Go back home and lock himself up to be all alone with his humiliation and lick his wounds. But he had given his word to see this adventure through completion. After that… well, he'd decide what to do when the time arrived. Probably go back to plan A, though.

"We weren't clear on your experience with guns, Steve," Ms. Potts said later on as she parked behind the racing track.

"I have none, ma'am," he replied.

"You'd better stay close, then," she continued. "And it's Pepper."

"Yes, ma'am—I mean, Pepper… Ms. Pepper..."

He caught her smile in the rear-view mirror. It wasn't a mean smile, unlike others Steve had gotten under similar circumstances. Nevertheless, it made him grow even redder.

He sighed and looked out the window, berating himself. Great. Had just become an even worse mass of wrecked nerves in front of people he admired. One day he would stop being nervous during a conversation with a woman. One day. Later than sooner at this rate, he suspected, but he would get there. As for the rest, he didn't blame them for not giving him a gun. He wouldn't even give one himself, to be honest. He'd rather take his chances with his fists. And with his feet. And with anything he could throw against his opponent. This approach hadn't let him down. Much. He was still alive, wasn't he?

As Steve, Pepper, and Rhodey got off the car, the truck parked next to them. Tony jumped down from the back right before it stopped and joined the rest of the team.

"It's still there," he said, showing them a strange metal object that sparkled as a means of explanation. "Let's do this."

Steve decided he wouldn't even bother asking and just accept Tony's word. It would be less of a hassle and more of a timesaver.

"How are we getting in?" Pepper asked.

"I have an extensible ladder around here somewhere," Tony replied.

"No need. We can go in through the back door," Steve said and began to guide them there at the same time he reached into his pocket for his key chain. "The cook gave me all the keys to the kitchen a while ago with her blessing to get what I needed at any time. Apparently, she thinks I'm too thin or something." And since what he needed right now was the sculpture, which was somewhere in the premises, he was free notice to feel bad about using them. Besides, those thugs who attacked them were dangerous. He would also be sparing whoever had it from having to face them.

"Good thinking," Tony said. He sounded proud and he gave Steve a firm pat in the back.

Steve did his best not to flinch, not sure if he had been successful; the contact had been that short.

Besides, there was no time to stop and think about this. He opened the door to them and they all walked in as if they were normal people going into a normal place for normal business.

These people were professionals. Steve already knew as much, thanks to _Marvels_ , but it was different to see it in person. The way they moved in a dark, unfamiliar room where danger awaiting in the form of an acid-spitting lizard humanoid was a real possibility, was mesmerizing.

It didn't escape him either that, on top of everything, the three of them were surrounding him. Protecting him. It made sense: he had no experience and no weapon. His physique was far from being impressive, and he was the one who knew the place. It made all the sense in the world, but Steve couldn't stop himself from feeling offended and uncomfortable. By and because himself, though. Once more, he would have liked to go back home, but now, less than ever, he couldn't. He had a responsibility and a duty to complete this mission.

They reached the administrative offices. In the long hall surrounded by offices, only the main one was locked.

"I don't have the key for this one," Steve said.

"I'll take it from here," Tony said. He produced a set of lock picking tools and began to work. "You go check the others," he told his team.

"On it," Rhodey said. With that, both he and Pepper spread out and went to check on the other offices.

Steve didn't know if Tony had address him as well, so he hung around around for a moment. The alluring way Tony's agile fingers moved as they worked had little to do with this.

After a moment, he shook his head. He should leave. A third person helping to check the rest of the rooms would make the search more efficient. However, at the same moment he turned around, the door opened and Tony called him.

"Come on, Steve," he said.

Unable to stop himself, Steve followed him.

Tony turned on the light. "Take a good look around. Let me know if anything in particular catches your attention."

Steve nodded and walked around the office. He found a great deal of horse racing-related art, sculptures and paintings, most of them rather good, but there was nothing looking anything close to a pegasus.

"Do you feel anything?" Tony asked. "Any kind of affinity toward anything in the room?"

What kind of question was that? Could it be a test? Regardless, Steve would give it an honest answer.

"You," he replied, forcing himself to look straight at Tony.

Tony stared at him. "I'm flattered, but it's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

"You'll know when you see it," Tony replied, and then he hurried to add, "Let's move on. We have a lot of ground to cover."

Confused, Steve made his way out of the office. His list of things to ask kept growing. "We have to lock the door again," he said.

"Leave that to me. But, hey," Tony murmured as Steve passed by him.

"What?"

Tony grabbed him by the nape and kissed him again. It was quick and rough, but it felt as real as the ones before. "Thank you," he said before gently pushing Steve to the hall so he could work on the door.

Steve's confusion didn't disappear. However, his need to complain did, and he could now breathe a little better.

*

They found nothing in the administrative building. Time to proceed to the stables. The road there was open, with nothing they could use to hide except a handful of trees and a few bushes, making it the most dangerous part of the operation. But, once more, Tony's team knew what to do. They walked in silence, without flashlights, guided only by Steve's memory of the place and a dim light coming from a device Tony wore on his palm like a fingerless glove.

"I was waiting for an excuse to use it," he had said when he put it on.

When Steve realized that neither Rhodey's or Pepper's surprise was as obvious as his, and no matter how fast he closed his mouth, it was too late. Tony had caught it and smirked at him. More self-conscious than before, Steve looked away and kept giving instructions.

Three stables of nothing later, Steve felt his patience thinning out. Worse yet, Pepper and Rhodey got to investigate a stable each, but Tony kept following _him_. It was as if he couldn't decide on his own, and had settled on going to the ones Steve approached—and he hadn't even tried to kiss him again. Perhaps he expected Steve to do it, except that he looked so serious. Not knowing what to do increased Steve's irritation toward everything.

There was also the matter of the strange question Tony had asked. Steve didn't feel anything special, nothing beyond restlessness and a growing need to punch something—and a bubbling in his stomach whenever Tony got too close.

Then, he heard a familiar neigh not that far away. Babieca sounded scared. Terrified, even. Worse than Sunday night with the thugs, when he had met Tony, and that morning when Mr. Chase and the lizard-man attacked them.

Without thinking about it, he began to run.

"Steve!" Tony called.

But Steve didn't stop. He reached the stable panting and with his heart beating fast, but not enough to make his sight blurry. So far, so good. On the other hand, Babieca kept on neighing and kicking the door of his stall down, but he didn't luck hurt.

"Easy, there," Steve said. "What happened?"

He found out what happened as soon as he stepped inside the stable. Two strong arms surrounded him while someone else put a muzzle on him.

"Sorry, kid," said Mr. Chase. "But you didn't agree to the easy way."

Steve struggled, but he got nothing out of it. Whoever held him began to walk following Mr. Chase.

What aggravated Steve the most was the indignity of being unable to touch the ground with his feet. Hated the idea of being seeing like this, with his feet hanging. What would Tony say?

It was then that Steve realized that Tony hadn't followed him this time. He hadn't even heard his footsteps behind him on his way to the stable.

Where was he? He had said that he took care of his own and that Steve was now part of his team.

_Tony, where are you?_

No one came. No one answered Steve's unspoken callings.

He was taken to the back of the building. Next to the trees he saw a dark gray metallic structure as big as the stables. A panel slid to the side, revealing an entrance.That thing could only be a spaceship.

 _I now have five extra dollars,_ was the last thing on Steve's mind before his captors took him inside.

* * *

Tony tried to go after Steve, but the blue lizard-thing jumped in front of him, blocking his way. It stood very still, staring at him in that way lizards had that made one wonder whether they were alive or not. It didn't wear the jeans and the hooded coat as before. Instead, he had something tighter on, made of a flexible-looking material Tony didn't have a name for.

In any case, the nuisance wasn't here in front of him by chance. Steve had ran straight into a trap and Tony should get there to help him. To save him one more time.

"Out of my way," he ordered, his hand hovering over his gun. "I'll give you one chance and one chance only."

The creature gave its first sign of life by moving his right eye backwards, like a chameleon.

"Ugh. Don't do that. It's unnerving," Tony said.

He though he saw the corners of the creature's mouth curve upwards. The eye came back to the front so both were once more looking at him. The lizard's next move was more worrying. Its neck swelled and it threw its head backwards, giving Tony less than a second to jump to the side before a mouthful of acid hit the spot where his feet had just been.

He rolled on the floor but soon he was back up, aiming his gun to the creature. But the creature had fled.

"Dammit!" he yelled and began to run to Steve's stable. " _Dammit. Dammit_."

When he got there, it was empty. Empty except for the horse, who was about to succeed throwing down the door of its stall.

"Hey, hey, calm down!" Tony said in the softest voice he could gather as he approached the stall. "If you escape, you could get hurt and what are we going to tell Steve then?"

The horse scoffed, but it stopped kicking the door and turned around to look at Tony.

"There you go," Tony said, unsure of if had been his tone or the words that did it. He had been harboring suspicions for a while, but he still needed to make sure. "I'm glad no one else is here to witness this in case I'm wrong, but can you tell me if Steve was here?"

The animal got agitated again. He scratched the ground, shook his head, and made weird noises.

Nearly there.

"Do you understand my question? Hit the ground with your hoof three times if you do."

The animal did as told.

Tony took a deep breath. "Fine. From now on, one hit on the ground for yes, two for no, okay? Was Steve here?"

One hit on the ground. _Yes._

"Did anyone take him?"

_Yes._

Dammit.

"Was it the same old man who attacked us this morning?"

_Yes._

"So, if I let you out, can you show me where they took him and not escape?"

_Yes._

Tony nodded and opened the door. "Let's go, then."

Tony followed the horse to the back of the building. There, Tony increased the intensity of the light from his gauntlet and discovered that something had been there. Not too big, ovaloid, and it had burned the organic matter inside the perimeter it had occupied.

Tony rubbed his face with one hand. "A spaceship," he mumbled. "They took him in a spaceship."

The horsed reared and neighed, as if demanding Tony to bring his friend back.

Tony could have stayed there, being angry and cursing everything around him, but it would have served no purpose. He had to move. He had to act before they figured out in the worst way possible that Steve didn't have any information they could use.

He looked at the horse. "We need to put you back in there. You'll be safe. I'll find him and bring him back, all right?"

The animal hesitated, but in the end he hit the ground once and followed Tony back to his stall.

A moment later, with the horse taken care of, Tony hurried to look for Rhodey and Pepper. They were together when he found them, and they in turn were looking for him.

"Where is Steve?" Rhodey asked.

"As soon as we find him," Tony replied, refusing to consider it anything but a certainty, "you owe him five dollars."

 

 

**Wednesday**

Sunrise caught Tony on top of the truck watching the sky with a pair of binoculars while the rest of his team looked for any kind of information about unusual activity in the air by any means they could get a hold on.

"Why don't you work, you stupid piece of crap?" he grumbled for the tenth time. Unable to work in the new armor since Jarvis kicked him out from the mobile workshop and sent to try to sleep, he had to settle with going over the blueprintsin his head.

"You need to have a clear mind," Jarvis had said.

What a big load of bull. Tony had spent longer periods of time without sleep while keeping a clear mind. He didn't need sleep. What he needed was to find Steve.

He felt so useless. He should be able to both scout the skies and be able to present a good fight against the aliens instead of having to choose between one or the other. As things stood now, with the fuel as a limitant, only the second was the practical option.

_Fuck practical._

Except that it was the only chance he had to bring Steve back.

He didn't want to think about all the things they could be doing to him, and he hoped that when the old man proclaimed to have a soft spot for the jockey he hadn't been lying.

It was all his fault. He had roped Steve into this. He should have left him alone—except that then he wouldn't have learned what he had in the past couple of days.

But had the price been worth it?

No. No, it hadn't.

He jumped down from the truck. Since he couldn't use it, Tony took a random direction and walked down a few blocks. He wouldn't stray too far anyway, just in case, but he needed to move. To think.

He looked at the normal people around him, who were about to start their day without knowing what was at stake around them. Tony envied them for a second. No more than that. Yes, none of them had his responsibilities nor his problems, but at the same time, they didn't have all the good things that came with being him either. Tony wouldn't change who he was, not even now. Tables could yet turn.

Tony had seen himself in terrible situation after terrible situation over the years, and he had always beat the odds in the end. It was part of the adventurer's life. A life that, for the first time, had decided to include aliens in its repertoire. But he guessed it had always been a matter of time. It was nothing but a normal progression of things. Thus, it was also expected that he would have to rescue someone from them.

It would help if he had something to bargain with that wouldn't put the Earth at risk. He just knew Steve wouldn't approve of that. The jockey had already risked his life three times in three days, once for a friend and twice for a horse. Him being willing to sacrifice himself to save the planet would be the normal progression for the kind of person he was.

 _You, big asshole_ , Tony thought, but he discovered himself doing it with fondness mixed into the annoyance.

An alternative would be to offer them a fake and distract them to grab Steve and leave. That sounded promising, even if Tony still needed to work out the actual logistics. Yet, having the start of a plan made him feel better. Enough for a craving for coffee to find its way to the surface of Tony's conscience.

He went back two blocks to where he had seen a diner, got in and asked for a cup. Two sips later, people started screaming outside. A quick glance showed him they were also looking up at the sky and pointing, so he tossed a few coins on the counter before he dashed outside.

Up there, an ovaloid object flew erratically well above the highest skyscraper in the city. It shimmered, parts of it becoming reflective of the environment around it while the rest remained dark gray. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe its cloacking system was being sabotaged, perhaps even by a Steve Rogers.

Tony needed to get up there. He ran the rest of the way to the truck, ready to give those aliens a piece of his mind.

*

To reach them up there would have been easier if he had been able to make the other armor work, but this one would have to do.

The spaceship kept behaving as a bull stung by a bee, but it didn't attack the other flying mass of metal that approached it. Tony even got the luxury of landing on top of it, making it shake, and no one came looking. He hoped that Steve giving them hell in there was what kept them busy.

Taking advantage of this new wave of good luck, he looked for a panel he could open. There were none, so he made one himself. The ship was as resistant as he expected. He had to punch it three times to make one hole big enough to pass his hand through the roof. Tony grabbed the edge he had created and pulled with all his strength until he peeled of enough metal for the armor's head to take a good peek inside—or for a small jockey to climb up.

At that moment, all kinds of insults began flying by, the one calling the ship a fucking piece of junk being the tamest one.

"Tony!" Steve exclaimed. He was looking up, properly impressed and with a bright smile on his face. He didn't look hurt at all, thank everything, and he was wearing Tony's coat.

Three individuals—the old man, the lizard, and another big humanoid creature with skin like stone—stood in front of Steve, who didn't have his back against the wall just because there were something that looked like a suit of armor scattered between him an it. As a matter of fact, Steve stood his ground holding a round shield he had most likely taken out of that pile. Tony felt proud of him.

"Steve," Tony replied in the most casual tone possible. "I apologize for showing up so late."

"It's alright. I've been managing," Steve answering in the same tone.

"I am done!" exclaimed the guy made of rock. "Done!" He grabbed a gun from his holsters and aimed up at Tony.

Before he could do anything else, however, Steve charged with all his might against his kidnappers. He caused less damage than he expected, no doubt, but he caught them off guard. He made the old man lose balance, flail and try to hold onto something. Anything. He grabbed the arm of the guy made of rock, changing the angle of the gun. As a result, the shot hit the side of the ship, making another hole. Both the rock-like guy and the old man gaped at it as people who saw their hopes and dreams crumble before them. It was amusing.

"This happened because you decided on this piece of junk!" the lizard yelled. "I'll pick the next one!" Then, he started his spitting routine, but Steve hit him in the midsection with the edge of the shield.

The lizard doubled down, his spit dripping down from his mouth between his teeth. Steve removed the shield in time for the acid to go all the way down to the floor for hole number tree. This time, the acid seemed to affect the wiring, as evidenced by the crackling and the sparkles coming from the spot.

"I know you're having fun down there," Tony said, lowering an arm through the one hole he had made, "but we'd better go or we'll miss breakfast."

Steve was panting and his arms were shaking when he dropped the shield down. But he nodded and reached up to grab that enormous, metallic hand.

_It's fine, Steve. As soon as I get you out of there, you'll be able to take a break from all of this._

However, as Steve began to climb, the old man charged with a knife. Tony lifted his hand as soon as he saw him, only succeeding in making the wound not immediately lethal.

Steve yelled when the sharp edge went through his clothes and broke the skin and his blood began to flow from his side as Tony pulled him up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thursday**

Steve opened his eyes to a dull pain on his side and to an unfamiliar room, although not one in a hospital this time. The bed was too comfortable. So was the pillow for that matter, and it smelled familiar, although Steve couldn't place it.

He looked around. From where he lay, he was able to make up some details. He had never seen a room that big. All those tables with tools and assorted devices half way into assembly clashed against the more elegant carvings on the expensive-looking wood. However, they helped him realize that this was Tony's room.

Steve sat up, the pain becoming sharp as he did. Memories came rushing back, too. Everything that had happened in the racing track and afterward. The kidnapping, the spaceship, the rescue.

Tony.

Tony had come for him, just as Steve knew he would. And he had taken something from the aliens for him, the entire reason why the fake gardener had hurt him. To prevent that information from reaching their competitor. He had to tell Tony.

However, trying to stand up made the pain worse. With no one else in the room, he allowed himself to grimace and whimper before trying again, this time more slowly. Every inch up stung, but it meant progress. He could deal, even as he wished for Tony to show up and save him he trouble this one time.

"Go back to the bed right this moment or else, Rogers," Tony said as he walked in, as if summoned by Steve's thoughts this time around.

"Tony..." Steve whispered. He remained sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the approaching man until the latter pushed him gently back down. He didn't resist. He didn't even ask what the 'or else' meant. He just let himself be laid down, transfixed by the way Tony looked at him.

"You need to rest," Tony continued, touching Steve's cheek and examining his face. "You have a better color today." Then he smiled. "The way you keep blushing helps your looks too, you know."

That of course didn't help.

Tony was so close now, and Steve had been scared— _scared_ , an emotion he never allowed himself to acknowledge—of not seeing him again. Scared not of having being abandoned, but of being taken to where he could not be followed. He was happy now to have held onto hope. Hope had paid off, and he was back on the ground and, while hurt, he had the chance to get better again.

Desperate and thankful, Steve grabbed Tony by the back of the neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Tony complied, taking control of the kiss like he had done the first time. But this time it lasted for longer. It was passionate and warm. Exactly what Steve needed. He moved his hand to tangle his fingers in Tony's hair, wondering what he had been thinking of when he found out Steve had disappeared, or when he decided to go after him.

All his worries and coherent thoughts disappeared the moment Tony's tongue went into his mouth. Steve melted against the bed and he yearned for the weight of Tony's body on top of his. His free arm went around Tony's neck to bring him closer and closer.

Tony stayed there for another moment, but he moved away. "You're still hurt," he murmured.

"I know," Steve replied. He was panting, but it was the good kind of panting. He also knew he was blushing, but he didn't mind this one time.

"For a moment it seemed like you forgot."

Steve raised his hand to trace the lines of Tony's cheek with a finger. "Only me?"

Tony held Steve's hand and kissed the palm. He looked relieved. "You're terrible, you know?"

Steve grinned at him. "I've been called that before."

"I believe that. But now, breakfast. I'll call the doctor while you eat."

"Wait. I need to tell you about the papers I got from the ship!"

"The ones in the pocket of the coat? I won't deny we all were amazed. We had been wondering where those were, and then you show up with them. We put them back where they belong and you have no idea about what I'm talking about, do you?"

Sometimes, Steve annoyed himself with how easy he was to read.

"They said it was what brought them to Earth, that's all I knew. But I wouldn't mind if you tell me the whole story. It's starting to get really confusing. Aliens have never featured in _Marvels_."

"No, they haven't. All right. I'll tell you what I know about the sculpture, but in exchange you'll have to tell me everything that happened up there."

"Fine," Steve replied and got ready to speak.

Tony raised a finger to stop him before he said the first word. "Over breakfast."

"Fine," Steve repeated, sinking in the pillow.

Tony bend down to give him a quick peck on the lips. "I'll be right back."

When he left, Steve took the opportunity to sit up once more. Tony hadn't said he couldn't do that, and the part of not leaving the bed had been only implied. In any case, he didn't raise himself much, just enough to look out the window. He had caught a glance of the garden the first time around, enough to, despite the circumstances, think it was nice. He couldn't be blame for wanting a second look.

Yes, it continued to be nice. Beautiful, even. Well taken care of. Spacious, with roads flanked by rocks. But something else down there caught his eye. Two people talking. Pepper and Bucky, and if Steve knew his friend and the way he conducted himself, he was flirting. Meanwhile, Pepper's arms were folded and she was laughing.

Steve shook his head and dropped down on the pillow again to wait for his breakfast. To be honest, he was hungry.

However, Bucky and Pepper dropped by before the food. Together. Tony must have told them about Steve being awake on his way to the kitchen.

Bucky whistled and raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. "Wow. You aren't only not on your way out through the window, you're _on_ the bed this time!"

"Shut up!" Steve answered, throwing a pillow at Bucky's face. A customary answer to a customary tease.

Bucky caught the pillow with an elegant move. The bastard.

"Good to see you're okay, though," he said. "You gave us quite the scare."

"Tony was as pale as you when he brought you back down," Pepper said. "We had to bring someone who knew about your medical history when the doctor said the wound was the least of your problems."

So his body had collapsed in the end. Steve wasn't surprised, only disappointed at himself. Nothing new on that front.

"My boss wasn't thrilled when Mr. Rhodes went to pick me up," Bucky said. His smile had grown smug, intriguing Steve enough to make him stop feeling sorry for himself and go back to paying attention again. "But, would you believe it, Stark Industries is our parent company, so I'm technically still on the clock. Thus, I have a paid long weekend ahead of me because my best friend was kidnapped by aliens. Which I will use to process what I just said."

Pepper smiled and shook her head and Steve rolled his eyes, but even he had to crack a smile.

"However," Bucky continued, "as I was telling Pepper, if this was going to happen to someone, that one would be you."

Steve scoffed out of principle. He would have teased his friend for being on first-name basis with Pepper, but he himself was too, so he decided to focus on something else.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"One day," Pepper said. "It seems you needed the rest." She grabbed the pillow from Bucky, brushing his hand with the back of hers, and then put it back next to Steve's head. "How are you feeling?"

"My side hurts, but it's not too bad," Steve said, surprising himself because his first idea had been to answer, 'I've had worse,' or a variant thereof, as usual. Instead, he changed it to the truth at the last moment. He couldn't stop there, either, so he looked out the window. "Thank you for worrying, and I'm sorry for worrying you."

He expected Bucky to whistle again and show some surprise, but what he got instead was his friend's hand squeezing his shoulder. Steve found a smile when he turned to see him.

"It's alright. We've got your back, Steve."

Steve smiled again. He knew it. It felt great to have support and know it.

Tony came back then, flanked by Rhodey and Jarvis. The latter pushed a cart with the promised breakfast. Not only for Steve, though. That was enough food for everyone in the room.

Steve's stomach growled. It mortified him that Pepper and Bucky were close enough to hear it, but they didn't comment about it. Bucky no doubt enjoyed that Steve wouldn't complain about getting help and medical attention this time around. According to his friend, that was one of Steve's most persistent problems. What Bucky would never understand was how much Steve hated to receive charity. This, right now, was not charity. Far from it. He had earned it. But Steve also knew that if he said it, Bucky would punch him on the shoulder, and he didn't feel like going through that right now in front of company.

As Jarvis distributed the food, Rhodey approached Steve, offering him a five-dollar bill. Something else he had earned.

"Fair's fair," he said.

Steve took it with a smile. "Thank you."

"If you're done," Tony said, motioning Steve to say his piece, "it's time we start this."

So Steve did, between bites. The food was good. Simple and nutritious, cooked to an edible point, which ruled out Tony having prepared it—unless he had ingratiated himself to the fire demon. Nothing against Tony. Everyone had their strengths and weaknesses, and this particular one of Tony made him more endearing.

But right. His abduction experience.

"There is not that much to say. They took me inside the ship and tied me up to a chair. There were some threats and tough talk, but it was just words. When they got tired of that, they left me alone for a while, then returned to keep talking. Seems like they decided to change approached and were nice this time. They untied me and gave me Tony's coat in case it was too cold up there. They also said they were merchants and that they traveled far and wide across the galaxy, looking for unique items they could offer to select clients, that this thing they were looking for on Earth would yield them the biggest profit yet. Enough that even I could get a nice share if I told them what I knew. Then, the old man Chase showed me those papers. They had served as their compass, which why I decided not to give them back. I put them in the coat's pocket and tried to get away, and then they chased me around the ship until Tony came to get me."

"So you decided to keep them without knowing when you'd be coming back," Bucky said in a resigned tone of voice. Not enough for Steve to regret what he had done, though.

"I knew it would be soon," Steve replied, glancing at Tony. "I wasn't mistaken."

Tony averted his eyes now. "You still got hurt."

Steve shrugged. "I'm here telling the tale. That counts as a victory."

Tony kept silence under the pretext of chewing on a piece of bread.

"Okay, Stark. Your turn," Steve prompted.

"All right, all right." Tony drank a last sip of coffee and began. "One week ago, a man came see us. I already had my suspicions, but with all that's happened, the chances of him being an alien as well have _skyrocketed_." Tony made a pause for everyone to groan at that and then continued. "He gave us the photograph I showed Steve, emphasizing that finding it would prevent Earth and humanity as a whole from a terrible fate. He showed us some proof that I won't go over right now—"

"It involved kicking Tony's ass," Rhodey whispered at Steve.

"I heard that," Tony said, sighing and rolling his eyes. "Point is, he gave us information and a way to find this artifact, but a section from one of the books was missing."

"The papers I found," Steve said, proud of himself for making the right call when it counted.

"Yes, that's it. The papers you found, Steve. That's where the definite clues were, because this is how these things work. Once we put them in the book, the whole picture became clear and the whole ordeal is almost over."

"So you didn't get it yet?" Steve asked.

"Yes and no," Tony said. "I've confirmed where it is, but it's safer that it stays there for the time being. To avoid attracting unnecessary attention to it before our Mystery Man returns for it."

"But wouldn't it be safer here?" Steve asked.

Tony shook his head and then he looked right into Steve's eyes. "Our friends the aliens _will_ return. Not today, but they will and they'll be after you. They know what they're looking for, but not where. You stole the information they had, and they still think you know more than you do, right?"

Steve sighed. "Yeah. Couldn't convince them otherwise."

"How do you know they won't come back today," Bucky asked.

"Steve and I kind of broke their ship," Tony replied with a grin. "If were them, I would get another one first. They don't only need a way to travel back to wherever they came from. They need a safe place where to store the goods."

"When is this person coming back?" Steve asked. "If he does soon, then he can take the sculpture and those aliens won't be after us anymore."

"He comes back next Thursday. A whole week from now, which will give them plenty of time. And…" he stopped and scratched the back of his head.

"Here we go," Rhodey said with a sigh.

"You'd better let it out now, Tony," Pepper interrupted.

Tony glanced again at Steve for a moment and then continued. "The aliens have half of it, and we need to deliver the piece whole."

"Is it broken?" Pepper asked, frowning.

"Broken sounds so definitive," Tony replied. "Think of it more like a puzzle to put together. But we need to get all the pieces."

From Steve's perspective, it was clear what Tony was building up to, so the jockey decided to volunteer before he had to say it.

"I'll be the bait."

Everyone turned to see him at the same time. Like something from a movie, as if they had agreed to do so beforehand. It made him feel self-conscious but he wouldn't back down.

"Bait is not the word I would choose," Tony began, but Steve wouldn't let him continue argue semantics again.

"You'll keep me safe. I trust you."

The room fell into silence, with Steve fearing they would try to dissuade him, so he frowned at everyone. He made a point of glaring at Bucky specially.

Maybe because of it, Bucky was the first one to react. He rubbed his face and groaned. "I know that face. There's no stopping him now."

"I guess we have no choice, then," Tony said, making Steve smile. "But you have to rest until then, and get better. Or there will be no mission for you."

"Got it."

"All right, everyone," Tony said getting up to pick up Steve's tray. "We better let him rest."

After that, they all started to leave.

However, Tony lingered so he can tuck Steve in.

"I'm serious. Stay there. Your friend warned us about you."

"I'll behave," Steve said. "Promise."

"Good. The doctor should be arriving soon. We told him you were mugged, nothing about aliens."

"That works." Steve caught Tony's hand before he took it away. "And you? Where will you be?"

"The workshop. But I'll come back once in a while to see how you're doing."

Steve nodded and let go of Tony. "You could at least leave me a book."

Tony went to the shelves on the back and grabbed half a dozen books he brought to the bed. "Here. That should keep you busy."

"Thank you," Steve replied.

Tony leaned down to kiss him for a last time before walking away again.

Steve was left alone, leafing through the books. He decided on one in the end, but he couldn't focus on it. He could only think about what he had promised, and how he would go about it. He began to itch, wanting to leave the bed to find Tony and help him to device a plan against the aliens. But he had promised, so he'd stay. He'd stay this one time.

* * *

**Saturday**

Maddock showed the next Saturday, early in the afternoon. With no one else available and Tony still posing as his business partner, he had to go there and entertain him. After bringing all they could find of Steve's artistic work from his apartment, Pepper and Bucky had gone out for a coffee so Bucky could tell Pepper his friend's life story—or so the official version went. Jarvis was busy doing whatever it was he did when he wasn't in the workshop, and it was Rhodey's turn to entertain Steve telling him his version of their adventures and giving his honest opinion of those illustrations. They had turned out to be good despite Steve's protests.

More than half of Steve's drawings represented scenes of Tony's team as they were printed in _Marvels_. They were lively and dynamic. Not quite how Tony remembered them, but then again, that wouldn't be possible unless the illustrator had happened to be there. Nevertheless, they were close enough, and they did a better job pulling the viewer in than the art provided by the publishing house. Therefore, Tony had honored his word and became his patron, starting by replacing the color pencils and the paper Steve had lost, and he began making phone calls to get him more clients.

But while that produced results, Tony had to deal with Steve's current boss.

Maddock stood in the lobby of the mansion, fidgeting with his cane and looking paler than Tony remembered. His demeanor worried Tony, but he decided not to show it before he had the entire picture.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Maddock," he said, offering his hand. "What brings you here?"

"Mr. Stark," the man replied, shaking Tony's hand. "I won't take much of your time. I was just wondering if you have any information regarding Steve. I haven't heard a word from him since we went for lunch. No one in the track has seen it. I already went to his house and found no answer! You're my last stop before the police. Have you seen him?"

… _oh._

On the one hand, yes, he knew where Steve was. On the other, he also knew _how_ Steve was, and he had always been terrible at delivering bad news. But he could run nowhere, and there was no one around to delegate this task to.

Fine. He'd give it a try.

"Well," he began, "yes, I know where he is. He's alive," he added, to Maddock's relief, although on his way to serve a glass of whiskey for his guest. That would help him feel somewhat less bad when he punctured the man's hopes and dreams. "Sadly, though, he was mugged and got a knife injury. He's not in danger, but the doctor recommended he stayed in bed for a while, which means no races until further notice."

Maddock found the closest seat, flopped on it, and drank the whiskey in one gulp. "But…"

"Don't worry. As your business partner, I will absorb all the expenses."

"Do you know which hospital he's in?"

Tony hesitated for a second, but then realized there was no reason for him to lie—more than he had already done, anyway. Besides, the they had practiced with the doctor would suffice for this as well.

"As a matter of fact, he's upstairs. Would you like to go see him?"

"If that's fine with you…"

"Of course. This way, please."

Tony led Maddock to the master bedroom. The intensified frown the man sported on their way there, even after Tony offered to take care of things, was impressive. Maddock's concern for his employee was genuine. This, in turn, explained why Steve had been so adamant about his boss not getting the short end of the stick back when Tony came out with the charade of partnering with him.

He spent the entirety of the visit thinking about that, and noticing how much the visit touched and surprised Steve. The jockey hadn't expected that. He managed to remember the mugging scenario, and even give some vague comments about it.

Tony left alone to have a private conversation, from which Maddock emerged about an hour later. He didn't look any better than when he first arrived, however.

"So it wasn't the same guys who attacked him the other night, that's good," he said, once he was back at the lobby with Tony. "But with no word on when he'll be able to ride again…"

"As I said, I would take care of it."

"I remember, and I appreciate it."

"But…?"

"There is no but." Maddock shrugged. "Only those pesky payments we have to keep making to the other jockeys. If only that blasted horse would accept someone else! It's given me nothing but problems since I bought it. I thought the curse had been broken when Steve appeared, but even he caught it too in the end."

"Curse?"

Maddock waved his hand. "It's how I call it because it feels like one. Now we won't be seeing any revenue. Only expenses, expenses, expenses." He sighed. "I'll be honest with you, Mr. Stark: every day it passes, I'm less and less enthusiastic about this endeavor. I've kept at it only because Steve kept winning and I have those debts. But like this, I'll be out in the street in no time."

Tony nodded, relieved. In his line of work, he encountered all kinds of curses every other day, so it was good this one wasn't it. However, he saw an opportunity here, and decided to take it. "Mr. Maddock, I'm willing to buy that horse from you with all the debt it has accumulated."

"Beg your pardon?"

"I'll write you a check right now, and then you'll be free," Tony continued, passing an arm around the man's shoulders, guiding him now to the study. "Free! Don't you like how that sounds?"

Maddock had to admit that, yes, he liked the sound of that. Not much later, he took the check, thankful and smiling and promising to return to see how Steve was doing.

Well, that had been easier than expected, and he had kept his promise to Steve of not to steal. All that was left was to wait for those aliens to return with the ancient Valkyrie armor. And, well, to give Steve the news that he now Tony wouldn't share him with anyone else now.

Tony spent the rest of the evening giving instructions to have his brand new acquisition moved to the mansion. There were stables in the back, which he knew to be in decent conditions if only because the staff had been instructed to keep everything functional just in case. The animal would be comfortable and within reach. Good.

*

"Good news and bad news, Steve," Tony said that night. He had walked right in to the master bedroom carrying the tray with Steve's dinner, just like he had done it the past two days. He checked on Steve, talked for a brief moment and left as the jockey ate to avoid giving into the temptation of joining him in bed. This time didn't have to be any different, so he continued talking as he placed the tray on the confused jockey's lap. His annoyed frown was too amusing, and Tony didn't get tired to see it. "The good: I'm your boss now. The bad: I'm your boss."

"That makes no sense," Steve replied.

"Yes, it does." He sat down on the edge of the bed now. "I relieved a Mr. Sydney Maddock from Babieca the horse a couple of hours ago thanks to a handsome amount for his trouble, and I managed not to laugh while I wrote it on the checkbook."

Steve laughed. "Finally someone else got it."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "I'm impressed. I thought I'd have to explain it to you."

"I was sick a lot as a child, so I read everything I could get my hands on."

"I see. But anyway. _Syd_ and _Babieca_. Is the horse named that on purpose?"

"Nope. When Mr. Maddock got him, he was already named that and it stuck. Did you tell him?"

"No. You?"

"Me neither. There was never a right time."

"And you didn't want to ruin it."

Steve shrugged. "It's pointless now, though. Babieca doesn't belong to Mr. Maddock anymore."

Tony removed the hair away from Steve's eyes. "He was sorry about having to sell the horse, but it was for the best. For him and for everyone."

"I'm glad you bought him. He's a good horse. He deserves an owner who cares."

"You think I care?"

"I know you care."

There were so many things Steve didn't know. Things that he shouldn't know about before they got what they needed from the alien spaceship. As soon as that happened, he would change his mind about Tony.

To avoid thinking about it, and to avoid more questions, Tony leaned forward to kiss Steve again. The tray got in the way, its edge pressing against his stomach. Tony hated it, but it was his own fault; he was the one who had put it there. Nevertheless, he did his best with this kiss, using everything he had learned the past few days about what Steve liked, one hand on his shoulder and the other caressing his cheek.

When he pulled away, Steve was panting heavily and wouldn't let go of the fistfuls he had grabbed of Tony's shirt. He looked at him, flushed and inviting, and the memory of his wound was the only reason Tony didn't toss the tray away to pounce on the jockey.

"Eat your dinner," he said.

"Don't leave me alone again."

It was the first time Steve asked for that, and he sounded and looked so open and vulnerable that Tony wanted to say that he would never leave him alone. But he shouldn't. He didn't deserve to stay. Not with what was coming. He had read the books again and again and the only way he found implied hurting the man in front of him.

He made the mistake of glancing at Steve again. The questioning look in his eyes and his parted lips broke through Tony's reticence, making him concede defeat and stay. He would enjoy this for as long as it lasted.

He smiled, and only then Steve began to eat. He looked so enthusiastic and happy now.

_You should stay like that forever. You deserve it. You're a much person than me._

"What?" Steve asked, amused, when he noticed Tony staring.

"I miss my bed. That's all."

"Nothing's preventing you from using it, you know. There's enough space."

"Is that an invitation, Rogers?"

Steve put the fork down and held Tony's gaze. He seemed to be about to push the tray away. "You tell me."

Tony sighed and scratched his eyebrow. "Listen, Steve, I really want to, but we can't. You're hurt."

Steve grew red and glanced at his steak for a moment before coming back to Tony's face with that stubborn expression of his that Tony had begun to both fear and find endearing.

"Maybe I could—I don't know. Do something for you."

Tony felt that going straight to his groin. But he shook his head. That was not how he wanted to do this. "It's not fair if only one of us has all the fun."

Steve turned aside now. He was looking at the ground, red as an apple. "I—" he cleared his throat. "I wouldn't know."

Tony squinted and leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

"I don't really know. I haven't— I mean, I've never—Um. But I want to. With you."

Tony needed nothing else to set the tray aside on the nearest flat surface not caring one damn about the integrity of anything on it.

"Dammit, Rogers, I've been trying to be good," he said when he jumped on Steve, pushing him against the bed.

The sound that came from Steve was not out of pain, which brought comfort to the part of Tony's brain that was still working. However, even this one was in danger to shut down when Steve's hand wandered under his shirt, touching his skin.

Tony unbuttoned the top of Steve's pajama. He needed to see his bandages, so he wouldn't forget. There was enough skin to caress and lick on the either side of the bandages, and below and over them. He did that several times, enjoying the feeling of Steve's shivering under his lips.

"It's all right," he said, nibbling Steve's neck before going back to his mouth. "I got you. I'll take care of everything."

"Fine…" murmured Steve. He rubbed Tony's shoulders for a moment and then he pulled his shirt, trying to take it off.

Tony helped him, and once he was half naked, he remained sitting astride Steve, letting the latter's fingers roam on his side and shoulders while his eyes stared in awe to the middle of Tony's chest. There was a different place of his body he wanted Steve to stare at like that, but they had to start somewhere.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I like it." Steve's hand hovered over the plate, not daring to touch it yet.

Tony grabbed Steve's hand and kissed the palm before pressing it against the metal of his chest. "Do you?"

Steve tensed up at first, but relaxed as soon as he realized nothing happened. "It makes you look interesting."

Tony snorted. "I'll show you interesting." He leaned down to kiss Steve again and hooked his thumbs on the waistband of his pants. "May I?" he asked against Steve's mouth.

"Just hurry," Steve whispered back.

"So demanding," Tony replied, grinning, and soon left Steve without pants. And without underwear, since he might have taken them off at the same time. Oops.

Tony liked what he saw; Steve was half hard already, and he himself was well on his way there too. He leaned down and licked his way down from Steve's bellybutton to the base of his cock. When he got there, Steve was completely hard. Just as planned.

"Look at me," Tony said.

Steve looked down at the exact moment Tony engulfed him with his mouth. Tony enjoyed the way Steve froze, and waited until Steve could breath again before sucking. Steve's half gasp, half moan was the sweetest sound. He kept at it, twirling his tongue around the shaft, holding Steve's hips with his hands. He was so sensitive and receptive, groaning and moaning and gasping. The downside being that it didn't take him long to come. But that was fine. He had time to learn.

Tony cleaned up the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. "How was that?"

Steve's answer came in the form of a happy whimper.

Grinning, Tony removed his pants and flopped next to Steve to nuzzle his shoulder, his erection in full view. "Now, I believe you offered to do something for me?"

"Yeah, I did."

Steve began to move toward Tony, but he was stopped. Tony grabbed his hand before he could even think of hiding the upcoming wince.

"No, no like that." Tony put Steve's hand around his cock. "Like this."

"You're sure?" Steve asked, hesitation in his voice and in the way he began to stroke Tony.

Tony relaxed against the pillows and made encouraging noises. "Very sure." He sighed. "It feels so good. You made me so hard, with your moans and the taste of your come."

Steve looked away again, blushing despite having just had an orgasm himself. "I want to taste you too."

Tony's hips bucked. "You will, Steve. I promise. You will. Right now, it's fine like this. Keep it up."

And Steve did. He worked Tony's cock with enthusiasm, making Tony imagine all the things they could try thanks to Steve's inability to let a challenge pass him by, all the positions in which he could take Steve over and over again. He would be so tight and Tony would make him scream so loud. This last image made it, tipping him over the edge and he came hard all over Steve's hand.

"Fuck, you're good," Tony gasped. "That was great." He then opened one eye to Steve licking his hand, which made his cock twitch again. However, under Steve's health conditions, that was enough for the night. Thus, instead of commenting on it, he held Steve in his arms.

The latter let himself being hugged and cuddled up to Tony, tired and happy.

"Does it hurt?" Tony asked. "Your wound."

"What? No. I'm good. I feel amazing."

Tony kissed the top of his head. "Good."

In answer, Steve looked up at him, smiling a broad, honest, and innocent smile.

Tony couldn't stand it. He didn't deserve it.

"I need to go back to the workshop," he said, starting to get up.

Steve sat up after him, holding his hand. This time, he didn't even pretend he wasn't wincing. "Wait!"

"Steve, go back to the bed. You need to rest."

"So do you," Steve replied, his frown half way into a pout.

Tony looked away and reached for his clothes. "I don't."

What if the aliens come back tomorrow? What if it's suddenly time to put into practice all those hard choices he had already made?

Steve squeezed his hand. "Please."

_Dammit. Dammit. Dammit._

Tony went back to bed and cuddled with Steve once more, although he did so with an offended sigh.

Steve, on the other hand, passed an arm around Tony's waist and closed his eyes. Even then he managed to look smug, which made Tony roll his eyes.

"Good night, Tony."

"Good night, Steve," Tony replied. He planned to leave as soon as Steve fell asleep. However, at this point, he made the second mistake of the night: to close his eyes.

When he opened them again, he found Steve all but draped on top of him, smiling in his sleep, and his bandages untouched and without a single spot of blood anywhere. But the worst offender was the sun, which was up high by then.

"Oh, what the hell," Tony murmured. Then, he—carefully—turned them to their side to be the big spoon, hid his face in Steve's hair, and continued to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * * * WARNING * * *
> 
> This chapter contains graphic depictions of animal cruelty.

**Tuesday**

Steve was allowed to leave the bedas long as he didn't make any strenuous effort. After having promised that, the first thing he did was to visit Babieca in his new home. The horse received him with soft noises and nuzzles.

"Yes, I missed you too," Steve said. He grabbed a brush and got to work. He had missed this too, and he planned to make up for his absence. "I haven't asked Tony yet, but I'm sure we'll go back to race as soon as the doctor says it's okay. He's a good man, but he has to make his money back, don't you think?"

Babieca turned around to press his head against Steve, making him drop the brush.

"Hey!" Steve said, chuckling. He tried to pick up the brush again, but the horse wouldn't let him. The animal kept pressing his head harder and harder, until he got a hug. "There, it's that better?"

Babieca scoffed. There was something in his body language that made him seem sad. Perhaps he was nostalgic and would have wanted to be back at the track.

"It's fine," Steve said, tightening the hug. "This place isn't bad. Give it time, you'll grow to like it. There is enough space for us to run outside! I'm not allowed to right now, but soon. Okay?"

Babieca scoffed again and refused to move before Steve was called back to the mansion to have breakfast.

"I'll come back soon," Steve promised, which earned him a gentle push from the horse. Then, with one last pat, he left.

*

A couple of hours later, while Tony worked in that large building that was his workshop, the one he insisted on calling a shed, Steve sketched exotic flowers in the greenhouse. Tony had made good on his word and got him a new set of pastels and a sketchbook, as well as the promise to get him more supplies as he requested them. They were much better than anything Steve could have ever afforded—or that anything he had ever used. To be honest, he felt a little bit ashamed, no matter how much he told himself that this wasn't charity either. Worst case scenario, he would make paintings and illustrations that were worth even more than the supplies Tony could get him. That was a promise to himself.

This relationship he had with Tony—if it could even be called that—would have nothing to do with that. Steve would not put up with that kind of favoritism. He also kept wanting to talk about what was going on between them, but he didn't want to ruin it. He had decided to wait until Tony brought it up and then see what happened. Meanwhile, he would enjoy it best he could.

Ever since that first time they'd had sex, he and Tony had been sharing the bed, even if they had done it again only once after that. Nothing too vigorous, though, even if Steve got to give Tony a blowjob, which he, besides enjoying it more than expected, considered as a personal victory. He wanted to do other things with Tony and _to_ Tony. He had promised they would try everything at least once as soon as the doctor discharged Steve. Steve, meanwhile, didn't have clear what 'everything' entailed, only that he wanted to do it and that wished the doctor reached the sensible conclusion already. He felt fantastic!

Despite all of that, he was relaxed and content like he had rarely felt before, which, of course, made it the best moment for an enormous spaceship to uncloak itself above him. It was, as Tony had predicted, not the same one as before. This ship was at least twice as big, reddish brown, and it looked sturdier. And more dangerous, with that turret hanging underneath.

Steve placed his drawing and his material on the bench and he stood up. It was time to get the missing parts of the statue, then. Tony hadn't told him any details of his, but there was neither time or a way to go looking for him now. The greenhouse was a separate building from the mansion, and all the paths that lead from and to it were in the open. Besides, the workshop had windows; no way Tony hadn't seen the spaceship for himself.

Regardless, Steve knew the aliens wouldn't stop to consider before destroying whatever they thought stood between them and their money-making artifact. Not wanting the greenhouse and its contents to suffer, Steve took a deep breath and walked outside, his heart pounding, although not out of fear. He had been looking forward to settle his score.

"Goodness! Look at you!" old Chase said from the ship's outer speakers. "You survived!"

" _I told you!_ " came the lizard-man's voice, also from the speakers although slightly fainter. " _The nose—_ "

"The nose is always right. I know. I'm no talking to you. Where was I? Oh, yes. Where is our book, Steve?"

Steve took a moment to think of a good and cool boast he could use under those circumstances.

"Not anywhere you can find it!"

Fine. He hadn't managed this once, but someday. Someday.

"Don't play brave, kid. You know what happened last time you tried."

"I took all the information you had and got away?"

"Steve. Oh, Steve. That's why I like you," said Chase. Then, the turrets moved to point at the mansion. "Sadly, I have no use for anyone else down there."

As far as Steve knew, there was no one in the mansion. Yet, it was far from being empty. It contained many of the treasures Tony and his team had found during his years as an adventurer. They were priceless, the only one of their kind, and they had been hard to find and hard to obtain. Steve couldn't allow those aliens to destroy them.

He raised his hands over his head and waved them to call the aliens' attention. "How do you know you're not destroying what you're looking for?"

"I can't know what you don't tell me, boy."

"Enough of this!" exclaimed a voice that Steve recognized as the one who dragged him into the first ship, the thug with skin like a rock.

"No, stop!" yelled the old man.

The communication stopped. At the same time, the turret changed and pointed directly at Steve. It shook back and forth for a moment before it came back and locked on Steve.

He knew he should be frightened, staring as he was at the blackness inside the barrel, but that was far from how he felt. If his heart beat faster and he had goosebumps, it was because he felt more alive than ever before even as he wondered whether he could move before they began to shoot.

He didn't have to wait for long to find out, though.

Time slowed down when he saw a spark coming from the turret. He tried to move away, but he only managed to crouch down, in an effort to become a smaller target. That was it. He was dead, and there wouldn't be enough fragments of him left to hold a proper funeral. Yet, his one regret was not being able to fulfill his promise to help Tony save the Earth.

Then, he heard the clanking of metal against metal. Steve, still alive and in one piece, looked up to see the Iron Man armor standing between him and the space ship. Except it was now only half the size.

So this was what Tony had been working on these past days. It look impressive. More agile and more maneuverable. Even its movements were much more elegant, more in tune with the way Tony moved. It was incredible.

As Steve gaped, Tony dropped the cannonball he had caught with his hands. It was as big as a baseball, and it hadn't dented the armor at all.

"Can't leave you alone for a second, can I, Steve?" Tony said. He raised an arm and shot a bright beam against the ship. It bounced before reaching it, but Tony kept at it. "Go to the stables. Now."

"What? But—"

"You promised to do as I said and that's where I need you to be. You'll find out why when you get there. I'll cover your back. Now _go_."

Steve bit his lower lip. Yes, he had promised. But he didn't want to leave Tony alone against an armed alien spaceship.

But he had promised.

Steve close his hands into tight fists and ran toward the stables. Once there, he saw Babieca giving the last successful kick to throw down the door of his stall. He was free now, and celebrated it with a loud neigh.

"Babieca, no!" Steve called, hurrying to stop the horse from leaving the safety of the building. Things would complicate twofold if, on top of whatever Tony wanted of him, he had to take care of a scared horse. He placed a hand on the animal's neck to guide him to the next stall. "Come on. You'll be safe in there."

Then, for the first time since they had known each other, Babieca refused to obey him. Instead, he placed himself between Steve and the door and scratched the ground with his head lowered, as if ready to charge against whoever or whatever came in.

"That's not how it works, you know," Steve said, trying to push the horse out of his way, but it was useless. Babieca was as stubborn as he, with the advantage of being bigger and stronger; he should have seen it coming. "I'm supposed to be protecting _you_ , you know."

The horse snorted and remained where he was.

"Dammit," Steve muttered.

Outside, Tony and his new Iron Man armor crashed against the ground, lifting a big cloud of dirt around him.

"Tony!" Steve called. He tried to go check on him, but Babieca wouldn't let him. He tried to push the animal. "Move! I need to see if he's fine!"

_Useless!_ _I'm always so_ _useless!_

Tony got up with ease, the armor barely scratched. He raised his hand and shot more energy blasts against something Steve couldn't see from where he stood, but that had to be the spaceship.

Steve sighed in relief. But he couldn't leave things like that

"Babieca, move! I need to go outside! I need to help him somehow!"

The horse shook his head with purpose, and Steve froze.

Until then, he had known that this was an unusually intelligent horse. But, until then, he had never expected him to understand human language. He wasn't that naive. He kept talking to Babieca for the same reason he would to a dog or a cat; it assuaged his loneliness, and the animals tended to find the sound of a human voice soothing. But this—this was unnatural.

"What's going on?" he whispered.

Babieca lowered his head and the higher part of its back, inviting Steve to mount him.

Steve fought against himself not to take a step backward. "What do you want?" He looked around, like he should have done when he arrived. The place was empty. There was nothing but basic equipment, nothing that justified why he had been sent there with such urgency. Except…

He looked back at Babieca and reached out to touch his head. "Is this part of Tony's plan?"

Babieca nodded and reiterated the invitation for Steve to get up on his back. This time, he decided to take it.

The horse wasn't saddled, and without the stirrups it would be difficult, but he tried anyway. Babieca helped him, lowering himself as much as possible and staying still during the entire process.

"Alright," Steve asked once he was up there. "What's the next step?"

Babieca reared and neighed and then, he ran out of the stable.

* * *

_Finally_ , Tony thought when he saw the horse and the jockey together. Until then, he had been exchanging some banter with the aliens on the ship, letting them know what he wanted them to know and guiding them right where he wanted them to be. A few more minutes and everything would be over.

A few more minutes and Steve would hate him forever.

It would be pointless to try to prepare himself for the consequences of his future actions more than he already had. Tony's only option was to keep going. He started the thrusters in his boots, and he took off in the smoothest of ways. All the research and hard work had paid off. Again, the piece of information he needed to make this version of the armor work was also in the part of the book Steve recovered, surprising no one. There was still a lot of room for improvement, but this armor was already faster, lighter, and it required less fuel, which meant he could wear it for longer periods, taking away everyone's excuse to yell at him for it. Besides, it was more resistant and had some surprises hidden up in the metaphorical sleeves.

He kept dodging the shots from the turret, although moving slowly, making them believe they had a chance to hit him. He had made the spaceship fly low in a clear next to the stables. Now, with Babieca and Steve on the move, Tony flicked of his hand, amping the energy beams from his gauntlet, and shot down the column that joined the turret to the hull, making it fall to the ground. Then, before the aliens could recover from the shock, he got closer and shot at the body of the ship with both hands.

This time, the aliens had bothered with an energy shield besides actual weapons, but they had underestimated Tony again. Had they expected this level of technology on Earth? He didn't think so, and he was glad to show them how dangerous it could be to underestimate him.

The hull opened, showing the stone guy holding a gun in his hand. He didn't waste time with any kind of remark. He aimed and shot. And failed. He wouldn't have if Tony had been using the previous version of the armor. But since he wasn't, the Iron Man got away and shot right back.

Tony aimed at the spot where he thought the controls were. He was successful. A small explosion made the alien retreat while keeping the door open. He flew right inside, to keep the path clear for the horse to to follow him, which he did mere seconds later.

Babieca jumped in an elegant arch with a confused Steve holding his mane with both hands. By then, the other two aliens had joined the fray from behind a corner, shooting relentlessly at everything on the other side. Good. To have them in one place would make it easier to keep them under control.

"Follow the horse and do as he tells you!" Tony yelled at Steve.

"How is he going to tell me anything?" Steve replied. He had dismounted and remained behind the horse—or maybe it was the horse who had decided to act as a barrier. Tony's money was on option b.

"He'll scratch the floor once for yes, twice for no," Tony said. " You'll figure out the rest! Let me know when it's done!"

"What rest?" Steve asked, but the horse was pushing him toward the opposite direction now, so he didn't get an answer.

Steve was smart. He would figure it out and perform as admirably here as he did with everything else. All Tony had to do now was to wait.

* * *

The interior of this ship wasn't different from the other one. Steve even recognized which buttons to press to open the door Babieca pointed at with his nose. Steve was then pushed inside that room. As soon as it opened, the jockey was pushed inside.

The doors locked themselves up behind them, muffling the sound of the battle on the other side. At the same time, the lights turned on, revealing a medium-sized storage room. There weren't many things around, except the suit of armor from the last time piled on the floor without any kind of order, the one whose shield Steve had used to defend himself before Tony arrived.

"What do we do now?" Steve asked.

The horse went to the pile and began to move the pieces around with his head until he uncovered a strange-looking one. Upon further inspection, Steve realized it was a faceplate meant for a horse.

"Do you want me to put that on?"

The horse scratched the floor with his leg once.

"Alright. Hold on a second."

Steve bent down to pick up the faceplate and examined the rest. There were two sets of armors there. One for a horse and another for a human—or a humanoid creature—, something Steve hadn't noticed when he first saw then. Every piece was made of a metal that was light enough for him to carry, and yet highly resistant.

"I don't understand what's going on," he said as he worked. "My list of questions keeps growing and growing, but I will ask all of them later. First, we finish this. What upsets me is that no one told me anything about it beforehand."

Babieca neighed and nuzzled Steve.

Steve sighed and patted his head. "Don't worry. It's not you who I'm disappointed at."

The horse snorted and nodded again.

Steve smiled and shook his head before he went back to work.

Babieca suffered Steve's clumsy attempts at putting the armor on him. The saddle and the reins had been nothing compared to this. There were so many clasps and buckles, and it was easy to confuse where to attach what.

The horse pressed his head against Steve's back, as if asking him to calm down.

"I'm fine. I got this," he replied. "I don't want Tony getting hurt because it's taken us too long to finish this. But you're right. You're right. I need to focus."

He took a couple of big breaths. Once he calmed down, he did a better job, and soon Babieca was properly attired. He looked as magnificent as the sculpture in the photograph.

"What about the rest?" Steve asked, pointing at the other pieces. "Want me to put them on?"

Two hits on the floor.

"No, then. Let's go back with Tony."

He opened the door once more. However, he had to moved to the side because Babieca insisted on going out first this time.

"We're ready!" Steve called from behind the animal.

"Great, because we're on our way out of the atmosphere," Tony answered with forced cheeriness. He looked terrible. The aliens should have gotten out the big guns in the end, because his new armor was made a mess; smoke escaped from half the joints, it was dented and covered in sooth. Tony himself now walked with a limp hard to conceal. "Your friends over there finally grew a brain," Tony continued. "They closed all the doors and hatches and locked themselves up in the cockpit. We're going up into space! But don't worry, I'll take care of things."

Next, he pointed his arm at Steve and launched two pieces of rope at him: one to tie his arms and the other to tie his legs. He caught him before he fell down and placed him carefully on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Steve. But this has to be done." As he walked to Babieca, from Tony's arm appeared a large and sharp knife.

Steve's felt how his blood froze. "Wait! What are you doing?"

"What I must. Close your eyes. It'll be over in a second."

"Tony!" Steve called again. He struggled, but he was no matched for the rope. He tried to crawl, but he was too slow. "Tony, stop! Babieca, get out of there!"

But the horse didn't move. He closed his eyes and waited for Tony to reach him.

Steve then witnessed his lover stabbing the side of one of the strangest but dearest friends he had, opening a large wound from where blood spurt like a geyser. The horse screamed in pain and fell down on his knees. Tony then moved to the other side to repeat the procedure, unmoved by Steve's curses and pleas for him to stop.

"There. That should do it," Tony said, now coming back to where Steve was, knife still showing. He lifted the jockey from the back of his jacket and took him to where the horse was panting and shivering in pain.

"Why—?" Steve murmured. "Was this your plan from the start?"

Tony kept quiet and kept walking. When they reached the horse, Tony pushed a button on the wall that opened the floor right next to them and then he used the knife to cut the rope from Steve's legs, placing him and placed him on the saddle before the jockey could kick him.

"I need to make sure they don't come back. I hope I do, but I can't make any promises," Tony said then and began to push the bleeding horse toward the exit in the ground. "Just in case, it's been wonderful to know you."

Tony cut the rope that restrained Steve's arms at the last moment. Steve couldn't do much then, except hold on the reins, even if it was pointless, since both and Babieca were now falling down to the void.

* * *

Tony didn't stay to see Steve and Babieca fall. He closed the hatch and got ready to put all this mess to rest. He wasn't sure of what he would do nor how he would do it. All he knew was that he had to prevent these guys from going after Steve again. Not only until the Mystery Man came to get his price, but forever. He had no idea of how big they were on revenge, but with the kind of money they could get out of this, he doubted they would give up just by asking them to.

No. If he wanted to protect Steve, he had to cover all the bases, to make it definitive. It was the least he could do for him after what he had made him endure.

He crossed the cargo area with firm strides, all the way to the corridor that led to the cockpit. Firm strides despite the pain and the damage he had suffered. Once the aliens figured out how resistant the armor was, they brought up bigger weapons with greater firepower. He new and improved Iron Man armor withstood the attack more or less intact, but those impacts had hurt more than he would ever admit out loud. His right leg was close to give in, but he wouldn't let himself show this weakness.

So much for no one yelling at him now. He added "energy shield" to his mental list of improvements, but he would think of the details later. Priorities were others right now.

Since he didn't want to spend time pushing random buttons to see which one opened the door, he began making one himself with a laser. Next, he sent cut out part forward with all his might, followed by a smoke grenade. Taking advantage of the confusion, Tony tied the lizard-man the same way he had tied up Steve, only adding an extra piece of rope to keep his mouth shut. If Rhodey had been right—and he usually was—once the crocodile-like muzzle was closed, it would stay that way. The alien thug tried to open it several times without any success, proving Tony's theory right. Good. Time to move on.

As soon as he moved, Tony was under fire again. He had expected it, so he retaliated hard and fast.

Soon, though, Tony noticed that his attacker didn't shoot at him when he stood in certain spots. It didn't take him long to figure out why; that happened when the lizard-man was in the line of fire.

"Interesting," he murmured before doing he only logical thing: he picked up the lizard-man from the back of the neck and held him in front of him as a shield.

The rock creature let out an angry tirade in a language like Tony had never heard before. He kept aiming too, but didn't shoo anymore.

"Very nice," Tony said in a calm tone of voice. Then, he pressed the palm of his hand against the side of the lizard-man's head. "Now, drop your weapon or I will blow his head off."

The alien complied. The gun hit the floor with a thud. The creature kicked it away from his own reach and raised his hands for good measure. He kept quiet from then on, but his eyes told Tony he would strangle him if he could.

_Get in line, buddy,_ Tony thought, happy that the faceplate would prevent anyone from seeing his amused face.

"Good boy," he said. He didn't think the little rope he had left would suffice to contain this one foe for long, but he came up with an alternative solution. He pointed with his head what he hoped was a small storage room. The smallest, the better. "Get in there, then."

He was obeyed. The rock creature kept glaring at him all the way, but he went in the closet.

"Remember I have your little friend here, a plasma cannon in my hand, and an urge to get them both acquainted," Tony said before he closed the door and broke the lock with a well applied punch. Not his usual style, but he was in a hurry. "I'll be back for you in a moment," he told the lizard-man and let him down on the floor, also ignoring the looks he got from him. "Get in line you too," he murmured.

A few steps later, the cockpit door was the only thing standing between him and the last alien. Between him and his chance to go home. This time, though, it opened on his own. It smelled like an obvious trap, but Tony went in there anyway.

"I should take you instead," the old man said as soon as he saw Tony. He had taken shelter behind the pilot seat and had yet another gun pointing at Tony's faceplate. "This planet was supposed to be low-tech and this was supposed to be an easy job. Instead, we find a guy who found a way to combine Asgardian technology with whatever sticks and stones is that you use. Your brain alone would make us a fortune."

"Flattery won't take you anywhere," Tony replied in his most serious and collected tone. "What's going to happen instead is that you'll turn the ship around, land us in my property, and then you and your friends will leave Earth and come back never."

"I was watching you, you know. This beauty has cams everywhere. I don't know what shocked me the most: to realize that we had it under our nose from the beginning or that you didn't tell poor, poor Steve. That was unnecessarily cruel."

Tony agreed with only one of those adjectives, but he declined to comment on it. "Turn back the ship," he ordered instead, more sternly now.

"Suppose I don't want to do that. What then?"

"Then I'll take your brain as a trophy of my own."

"How? Flying in that armor? That's not gonna happen. Wanna know why?"

"I want you to do as I said."

"Tough luck."

Someone grabbed Tony from behind then, shaking. It hurt, although not as much as realizing that his armor was being ripped apart. First, the back and then the jetboots, rendering it unable to fly. His visor cracked and everything went dark inside the helmet.

However, he managed to start shooting from both gauntlets before they were taken away. It seemed like his calculations had been right and at least one of them was pointed at his attacker, since he was dropped to the ground. Yet, Tony didn't have the luxury to make an inventory of the pain and where it was located. He kept moving and shooting, hoping to hit something that would hurt _them_.

In the end, he did.

There was an explosion and old man's cackling stopped.

"You— You—!" and then he called Tony what he supposed was a very ugly word in another language. "You destroyed the console! We're going to crash!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter got too long, so I decided to cut it in two parts. This seemed like the best point to stop. :p
> 
> The fic is finished, though. I'll upload the last part as soon as I finish editing it!


	7. Chapter 7

Tony heard the aliens scamper away after the old man's announcement. He took off the helmet and what was left of the armor. It wasn't easy, with all the new dents and bent his attacker had left on it. It had to be the rock guy who'd done it; that'd teach Tony to make more throughout checks the next time he locked up anyone. By the time he caught up with the aliens, they were jumping from the ship carrying one backpack each. Parachutes? Tony looked around and found a couple more on a shelf.

"Please, be easy to use," he whispered.

Fortunately, as with any emergency equipment Tony favored, these things been designed to be intuitive. It had only one lever, which was visible and easy to access. Furthermore, the spaceship was high in the air. Tony's chances of coming out of this alive seemed great so far.

He put the backpack on and jumped.

While he was free-falling, he saw the three aliens already floating downward and tried to steer away from them. He would get them later. Without weapons and without his armor, he had no chance against them. But there would be a next day. He'd get them eventually, and meanwhile, he would figure out what to do with the once he did.

He pulled the lever at the same time he began to plan how to reinforce the mansion security. He would install more alarms and finish that second version of the armor and—

And then, the lizard-man raised his head to spit in Tony's direction. He tried to move away, but to maneuver in the air like that was next to impossible. However, he wasn't the real target.

The acid went over his head and through the parachute lines that attached Tony to the canopy.

A wave of panic from overcome him when he began to free fall again. The one coherent thought in his mind was that at least Steve would get rid of him for good. Tony's last present, something the jockey deserved.

He closed his eyes and waited. It shouldn't take long. In less than a minute he would land—and land he did, stomach first, on something softer and fluffier than it had the right to be. He lost all his air, but he was alive to breath in more.

He opened one eye to see he was on top of a bunch of pillows that, in turn, were on top of a horse-like creature whose wings obscured his view of the horizon. Not that he planned to complain about it.

He was alive.

"I'm only doing this so I can kick your ass later," Steve said, right behind him.

Tony winced and deflated even further. "Thought it was a rescue," he gasped.

Steve scoffed. "Shut up, Tony. Focus on regaining your breath. Then, we'll talk."

Despite being out of breath, Tony made a conscious effort to keep quiet. He closed his eyes and focused on the sound made by enormous wings of the last known pegasus in the universe, the same one that carried both him and Steve back to the ground.

In the distance, he heard the spaceship crashing. There was no explosion, which meant he might be able to recover some of that tech. A lousy silver lining all things considered, but a silver lining nevertheless.

* * *

Steve made the trip downwards refusing to admit to himself he was less pissed than he wanted to be. On his way up, he was too worried, and now he was relieved after being able to catch Tony. He tried to take this time to put order what he wanted to say, but it was so difficult. He felt hurt and betrayed and he didn't know where he would begin. His first impulse—to kick and punch Tony for a solid five minutes—was not an option anymore. Tony was covered in bruises, and it looked like he had broken something. Part of Steve thought he deserved it, but the rest of him wanted to comfort him. However, what he wanted the most was to know why. To be honest, that was the part that killed him.

Fine. He could—he should—start there.

Babieca landed in a clearing where they would be able to have some privacy, as if he understood. Although he probably did.

Steve jumped down from the pegasus' back and offered a hand to help Tony down, but the latter smacked it away. Fine. He could have it his way. Besides, this served to remind Steve that he was angry at him. He waited until Tony was standing upright to yell at him, fist closed and leaning forward as he tried very hard not to shake.

"Why didn't you tell me he would grow wings?"

"They would have heard it! Besides, would you have believed it?"

"Perhaps! If you had told me when you first found out! But we'll never find out now, will we?"

A quick shadow of pain and of what Steve hoped would be regret passed through Tony's face. It fade away soon, though.

"Where's his armor?" Tony asked, pointing at the pegasus.

"In your workshop. But you haven't answered."

"You had time to take it off and grab those pillows?"

"They were right at the entrance." And Jarvis had helped him take the damn thing off, but he wasn't going to tell Tony that.

"Right. There's a cot there."

Steve's need to punch Tony on the face returned with a vengeance. "Stop wanting to distract me and answer!"

Tony sighed and rubbed his face. "I already did. You wouldn't have bought it. And it had to be you up there. That's a war horse—war _pegasus_. They choose worthy warriors and bond with them and only them. Why do you think no one else could mount him? He saw your soul and realized you were the only worthwhile one of the bunch while he sent all the rest to the hospital. He wouldn't have suffered anyone else putting on the armor on him. There was no other way for me to make sure exactly where to make those cuts and free those wings. A mistake would have cost his life."

Babieca neighed, as if he wanted to confirm Tony's words.

To a point, Steve understood there was no way to go back and change the past, to tell themselves there were ways they could have done things differently. There was no way to change the past, and they had all survived, and Babieca walked into this knowing what would happen. A luxury no one thought of giving Steve. Yet, this could have gone a lot worse, so it could count as a relatively happy ending.

He still wanted to punch Tony, though.

He placeed a hand on Babieca's head. It calmed him down.

"You need to go see a doctor, Tony. Hop on. We'll take you there."

"You too," Tony said, although he did get close. "How is that wound of yours?"

It was only then that Steve realized that his wound had been tingling. Or perhaps stinging would be a better word. He didn't think it had opened but, in any case, who cared.

"I'm fine," he replied, turning around to give his back to Tony.

"You go on his back. I can walk."

"You're worse than I am. You should ride him. You'll let him, right?" Steve asked to Babieca.

The pegasus scoffed and pushed Steve against Tony only to use one of his wings to surround both of them.

"So, it's the two of us or neither," Tony said. He had wrap his arms around Steve when they crashed against each other.

On the other hand, Steve had leaned into the embrace. He hated himself for it and moved to climb on the pegasus' back. "Let's go, then."

"Yes," Tony answered, following him and getting on the horse right behind Steve. "Let's go."

They rode on silence for a while, on the ground to avoid making themselves a target. However, it wasn't long before Tony put his arms around Steve's waist. Steve leaned back again, this time hating himself a little less.

"I'm still angry," Steve said.

"I know," Tony replied. "I—" He drew a long breath and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"I don't know if I can forgive you right now," Steve said, nevertheless putting a hand on top of Tony's.

"I understand." He sighed. "The promise of being your patron is still standing even if you don't want to see me ever again."

That hurt. The idea of not seeing Tony ever again grew into a numbing pain that found its way through Steve's anger. It was so confusing. It didn't escape him that had spent most of the time since he had met Tony being perplexed.

He squeezed Tony's hand. "We'll see."

Tony nodded behind him and held Steve more tightlier.

This didn't help to clear Steve's mind because, not that deep down, it made him happy.

 

* * *

 

It turned out that they didn't have to worry about the aliens. Rhodey and Jarvis had caught them when they fell down and they were now safely placed in the back of the workshop, in the cages reserved for the dangerous creatures they used to encounter. They already had called the doctor as well, so all that was left was to wait for him to arrive.

Tony had been placed in the master bedroom while Steve was sent to rest to a different one at the end of the hall. Tony's reflection, which Steve had caught in a vase when he insisted on this, spoke of how much that had hurt him. But Steve wouldn't let his resolution falter; he needed time and space to think. He felt, however, more at ease now that he knew Babieca was well and back in the stables.

*

The doctor prescribed him painkillers and told him to rest for the next few days right after expressing his amazement of finding Steve in better a condition than he expected, specially after seeing Tony.

"How is he?" Steve asked.

"Lucky," the doctor replied. "You both are. I don't know how he didn't get a concussion."

Steve leaned forward and grabbed the man's sleeve. "Is that all?"

The doctor stared at Steve in that way he had learned to ignore a long time ago. Steve stared right back with his own brand of stubbornness, and in the end, the doctor sighed.

"Mr. Stark suffers from a few broken ribs. He needs to rest, just like you. Which reminds me…" He put a big bag on the bed within Steve's reach. It contained his drawing supplies and sketchbook. "Here," he said before leaving. "I was told this would be enough to keep you here. Enjoy. I'll come back to check on you tomorrow."

The supplies had been a brave attempt at keep him still, but this time they didn't work. To see all that expensive material served only to remind him of Tony. When he tried to draw something, he found Tony's soulful eyes staring back at him from the paper, accompanied by one of his long-fingered and dexterous hands on the right.

Steve left the sketchbook on the nightstand and left the bed to go to Tony's room. He'd better get this over with, the sooner the better.

He walked in to Tony putting on a shoe.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Tony asked as if he weren't doing anything wrong.

"And you!" Steve exclaimed. "Go back to bed, Tony. You had it worse than me."

"Are you joining me?" Tony asked, even if he left the shoe down and lied down again.

Steve didn't dignify that with an answer. When he reached the bed, he sat down on the chair next to it. Once there, he looked at his own hands for a moment before looking up at Tony's face. "How are you feeling?" he asked, first of all.

"Better now."

Steve nodded. Now that he'd had a better opportunity to look at Tony's bruised face and take a peek at his bandages under his shirt, most of the energy fueling his anger had evaporated. It remained burning low, though, revealing the sadness and disappointment that had been boiling underneath.

"I wish you would have told me," he said. "I wish you could have let me work _with_ you instead of—" he bit his lip and turned away. "On the other hand, I did agree to you _using_ me as bait, so maybe I didn't understand what that would entail." He went back to look at Tony. "So, next time, just talk to me."

"Next time?" Tony asked. His eyes were wide open and his mouth slightly open.

Steve nodded again, unsure now, feeling he had gone too far. What if Tony didn't want this? He should have asked first, not just assumed—

His train of thought was cut by Tony grabbing him from the back of his head, pulling him into a deep kiss. Steve kissed him back, grabbing Tony's shoulders until he heard him yelp and remembered those ribs.

"Sorry," he whispered, less than an inch away from Tony's lips.

"Don't apologize. Don't you ever apologize," Tony replied before kissing him again.

Steve wasn't sure how it happened, but the next time he opened his eyes, he was sitting astride on Tony's lap and Tony's hands were holding his hips.

"Tony, you're hurt," Steve said.

"Only my chest. My cock's perfectly healthy. Besides, I thought maybe you'd like to kiss my bruises better."

Steve laughed, charmed despite himself.

"Is that a yes, Steve?"

_Yes. Yes, it is, you sexy asshole._

"I might need more convincing."

Tony kissed him again, slow and sweet, with Steve responding in kind. He felt more relaxed now, and his anger had vanished. They were alive. They were both in one piece. They were together. He needed this. He needed this to make sure so much he didn't even fight when Tony turned them around so he could be on top. Instead, Steve let himself melt against the mattress.

That was, in the end, a wonderful evening.

 

 

**Thursday**

That had been an interesting morning. On the one hand, Steve got a letter from his former boss saying that he had moved to Australia with his housekeeper following a new business opportunity. On the other, Bucky had showed up during breakfast with the pretext to check on Steve but, in reality, to ask Pepper out on a date that night. Judging by his face when he left, she had accepted. Either way, on her way back to her office to continue working on the next issue of _Marvels_ , she had forbidden everyone to tell him how the adventure had developed. He could read it alongside everyone else when it was published.

"Except you, Steve," she had added. "You need to deliver the illustrations before it goes to print."

Tony's eyebrows raised. He seemed as surprised as Steve felt, but also happy in equal measure. "I knew it would go through!"

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked.

"The old _Marvels_ illustrator is retiring," Pepper explained. "We submitted your work and the chief editor loved it. He wants to hire you. I just got the call half an hour ago."

"Congratulations, Steve," Tony said, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder. "I knew you could do it."

Steve knew he had to thank them, but he had been caught by surprise and wasn't sure how to react.

"Well, boys," Pepper continued, "I need to go so Steve can get the first part this evening and start working."

With that, she hurried back upstairs.

"Steve, breathe," Tony said, amused.

"Is all of that real?" Steve asked.

"Of course it is! You're not only more talented than the other guy, you'll have the advantage of coming with me to see everything first hand."

Steve finally realized how he should react. He jumped to kiss Tony. With Pepper working and Jarvis and Rhodey guarding the aliens in the workshop, there was no risk of anyone finding them out. And even if they did, he wouldn't care. Not now.

"Thank you," Steve said when he broke the kiss.

"Hey, don't thank me. You've earned it. None of this would've been possible without you. Maybe not even that we still continue to flourish in civilization as we know it."

Steve lowered his hands from the back of Tony's neck to get a hold of his sleeves. "Right. The man who asked you to find the pegasus."

Tony hugged Steve. "Yep. That's what I was thinking of."

"What if he doesn't want to leave?" Something Steve was half hoping for.

"Then," Tony said, resting his chin on top of Steve's head, "we better prepare for a fight because you'll defend that pegasus and like hell I'm going to let you do it alone."

Steve couldn't repress a chuckle. Tony had that effect on him. Despite what had happened, or maybe because of it once he thought about it, he made him feel like he would have his back always not matter what.

"He comes today, right?"

Tony checked his watch. "Yes. If he's as annoying with punctuality as he is with concealing vital pieces of information, he should arrive in a couple of minutes."

Steve sighed and braced himself. No matter what happened, it would be painful.

At some point, Tony began to count in reverse.

"… four, three, two…"

A beam of light appeared in the middle of the garden. It didn't last long, and when it faded, it left behind a dark-skinned man in a golden armor and with golden eyes.

"Greetings, Tony Stark," he said. "Congratulations on completing your task."

"You could have said something and save us time, you know," Tony replied.

"A proper scholar should not expect to have his work done for him. Besides, this was how you found the worthiest warrior in this land."

He looked at Steve in a way that made him feel self-conscious, as if he knew something Steve didn't.

But Steve was done with crypticness and half-said things. "What do you mean?" he asked.

The only answer Steve got was one of the corners of the man's mouth curling up. It had been so difficult to notice Steve thought he might have imagined it. In any case, the general perception he got was to refer back to not expect to have his work done for him. He scoffed, which didn't work to intimidate the stranger.

"You know what I came here for," the man continued.

"Let's go to the stables," Tony replied and led the way.

"I will take the traffickers you captured with me, along with my books. You can keep your notes and their ship."

"Wow. Thank you," Tony replied.

"You could do is tell us your name, you know?" Steve said. He was going to get a piece of information out of this stranger or else.

"Heimdall of Asgard," the man answered. "I have come to return the last pegasus of the Valkyries to his old home."

_To his home…_

The words resonated in Steve's mind. That was something he could understand. Yes, he still was in New York, where he had been born. The key of the apartment he had grown in was in his pocket. But he had felt uprooted when his mother died. She had been the one to make that collection of rooms to feel like a home. He missed that.

They had reached their destination, so Tony fell back to hold Steve's hand. That helped with the sudden knot in his throat.

"Ah!" Heimdall said, spreading out his arms at the pegasus. "Here you are!"

Babieca neighed and bowed. He had recognized the man and the way he approached him made it obvious that he was willing to go with him.

Steve reached out to place a hand on Babieca's muzzle, but the pegasus pressed his entire head against Steve, who had no other choice but to hug him. He had tried to avoid that because he didn't want that lump in his throat to come back. Now he couldn't even speak and tell him how much he was going to miss him. Great.

But Tony, as if he could read Steve's mind, took it from there.

"We are going to miss you," he said, risking to pet the animal's forehead. "We'll find a way to go visit you. Take care until then."

"You are welcome to try," Heimdall said. "In the meantime, he will be fine. The crown prince of Asgard will be happy to take care of him."

"If he doesn't I will go there and make him," Steve said, letting go of Babieca.

"I will rely the message," Heimdall replied. Then, he bowed his head. "We must go now. Thank you for your help. Now, no other bounty hunters will come here looking for him."

Babieca bowed to them now. It was the last Steve saw of him before the beam of light returned, whisking both Heimdall and the pegasus away.

Steve closed his eyes and fought against the emptiness that began to grow inside him.

Tony hugged him again and started playing with his hair. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be," Steve said, hiding his face in Tony's chest.

"Come on. Let's go cuddle on the couch. We need to rest if we want to be discharged any time soon. No one will let us go anywhere if the doctor doesn't grant us his written permission."

"Talk for yourself. I'm nearly there." But he let Tony take him back to the living room. Steve would never say it out loud, but the idea of cuddles sounded very tempting.

He could get used to this. To not feel lonely all the time, to have the refuge of a warm embrace when he needed it. He felt as if he had found his calling in life, and he decided he would stay for as long as he was wanted.

"Stay forever, will you," Tony said as he made Steve sit down next to him so he didn't have to let go of him.

Steve leaned against him and closed his eyes. "Yes. Yes, I will."


End file.
